#man and van purely

[fabulousairpirate]

endlessly fascinated by naminé. girl there is so much we dont know about you.

[lily-bisque]

✦ running into sukuna years after you’d lost your virginity’s to one another ﾉ eighteen plus

flimsy hands, awkward stares, and teeth bumping into each other in the backseat of his dad’s old beat up van. you were young, fresh faced, and so was he.

an asshole of a center for the highschool hockey team that made your heart bloom on first glance despite his aloof demeanor. and lucky for you, the indifferent salmon haired boy had his eyes set on you from the start as well.

and what was a blossoming, delinquent love affair turned stolen kisses and quiet confessions after class continued to ring deep in the recesses of your heart for years to come, something adolescent and pure to adorn it.

he'd come prepared that fateful day, and you could feel in the air that today was going to be different. he wasn’t a gentle-mouthed boy, always quick to insult and speak. but with you, he opened up a different part of himself. words and gestures reserved for just you. and even if he was your first love, you always knew there was something real there.

that was, until the… deflowering.

you don’t like to think back on it too much as it was your last encounter, fearing it shaped the course of your romance together. he was obviously just as inexperienced as you, but you’d still expected a hell of a lot more.

it was quiet, muttered apologies and winces, curses of frustration under his breath when his belt snagged, limbs bumping into leather and fabric rustling against each other.

he’d only lasted around 15 seconds before it was over.

and now, six years later at a highschool reunion, you’d prayed you wouldn’t run into that familiar brute of a man to avoid any blunders.

but he was there alright.

standing nearly seven feet over the crowd of your old classmates, drink in hand as he shoved the other in his jean pocket.

you couldn't help the stammer of your heart, seeing how grown he looked after all this time. he had tattoos decorating both arms in thick lines, and a few even lining on his face.

he looked infuriatingly good; like a piece of cake your mother made, telling you that you can't eat it but when it looks so good sitting there, you're tempted for just a taste.

it was a hot summer night, sun low and a feverous and stifling temperature to match the low pace of music. decorations were just a few speckled foldable tables at a park outside your old highschool with party favors, coolers, and a couple of grills going along with a bar.

nostalgia flittered in the air with smoke, quiet chatter as everyone caught up, picking up just where they’d left off in this small town.

you kept your head down, focused on the conversation of your old friend group as they giggled about how their jobs were going or something else you weren’t really listening to.

howbeit, it was almost inevitable, that red string of fate that tied the two of you together.

because, within moments of him spotting you in the crowd thanks to his birds eye view, you felt a couple of meaty fingers tap against your shoulder.

grimacing like you were bracing for impact, you turned around as your friends conversation stalled for a moment, watching as you greeted him.

“hey,” he gruffed out, the smallest hint of relief and melancholy swirling in his crimson irises.

“hi ‘kuna,” you whispered back, feeling like you were back in high school with that nickname he only let you call him, the smallest hint of alcohol coursing through your veins and making every hair stand on end.

noticing the awkwardness, he placed a hand on the small of your back and led you towards the bar and away from the watchful eyes and ears from your friends, not without earning a few glances from familiar faces.

“how’ve you been?” he quiered, his tone a hell of a lot deeper, huskier than you’d remembered. he’d definitely grown into himself.

“good,” you nodded, pursing your lips and stopping at the bar counter, setting your drink down, ignoring how your heart was in your throat and your eyes felt wide. “what about you?”

he cocked his head, mulling it over, before nodding again. “good.”

it’s a hick-old town, and most of the gossip you’ve already heard.

but sukuna was different in that sense. you knew he was still at his families old ranch, yet you’d never once run into him or heard a lick of gossip.

maybe that was due to you working in the city after graduation, or his reserved nature.

“how’s the city life?” he asked, as if reading your mind.

you let out a gentle chuckle, soft and airy, something he had forgotten the sound of after all this time. “it’s a lot,” you stated honestly, toying with the stem of your glass. “but i like it.”

he hummed, leaning an arm against the bar and giving you a once-over. “you look real nice.”

the smile that made its way to your heated cheeks was nothing short of genuine. “could say the same for you.”

and after nearly an hour of catching up with inappropriate nudges and yearning gazes, you found yourself straddling him in that same beat up van you had just years before, only now it seemed he done some real repairs on it.

it was sleek red with brand new leather seats, black rims and a new dashboard. it was nothing like the old car you were so used to seeing outside your bedroom window whenever he'd pick you up before school.

his mouth was latched to your throat, trailing love bite after love bite, thighs rubbing against the fabric of his blue jeans, your hands clutching at his lumberjack-style flannel for some semblance of grounding.

but his large hands were everywhere, feeling you up and committing everything to memory as if he failed miserably the first time. cupping the mounds on your chest, gripping the plush underside of your thighs, caressing your nape with each passionate kiss.

“missed this," he huffed, squeezing your hip and you let out a whine, tossing your head back and placing your hand against the window. after all those years of chopping wood or wrangling cattle, his muscles were what he had to show for it. he was insanely ripped.

you hummed, then moved your fingers to skim through his hair, gyrating your pelvis against his hip.

that earned an impatient growl from him, bunching your sundress in his hands and sliding your now-damp panties to the side. his finger pad teased your entrance, collecting the pooling slick, before pushing it's way in.

you shuddered in his grasp, feeling how he slipped so easily inside of you, evidence of how easily he turned you on, and began working you open. he then pushed another digit in to create scissoring motions that had you spinning.

in your sukuna-induced trance, you missed the smug grin he had on his face as he watched you work your way towards unraveling yourself on his hand.

grinding your hips onto his palm, he pulled your waist down to match his thrusts of his curling fingers up and into you, rubbing that tender spot over and over that you began to whine out heady moans of his name.

"s'kuna," you whimpered, biting your lip and not even caring about the way you made his car rock in your old high school parking lot.

"missed you, too," he sighed out finding that sweet spot on your collarbone and biting down as the tips of his long fingers prodded your cervix.

before you had the chance to reach your peak, he pulled out, leaving you empty and throbbing. he slipped his fingers into his mouth and made a lewd scene of cleaning it up, not letting a drop go to waste.

you could only watch, maw slack as something coiled in your gut, forming a taut knot only he could undo.

leaning back, he brushed a strand of tresses behind your ear and admired your flushed state. "just as beautiful as i remember," he hummed, eyeing you carefully.

you placed a hand against the tent in his pants, palming him with a pressure that had him biting his lip. "and what do you remember?" you teased, fingers working at his belt buckle.

he grinned, watching you work to free his shaft, which was a hell of a lot larger than you remember. the girth had your mind spinning. "remember how much of a brat i was to fuck things up with you."

that had you glancing up and tilting your head, an adorable look he catalogued in his mind years ago. "you're not talking about..." you questioned, trailing off and wondering if he remembered your first time the same but his unfaltering expression was evidence enough. "we were just kids. we didn't know what the hell we were doing," you reassured, leaning forward to cup a cheek. you never blamed him for it.

he still has no idea how he let you get away.

but he'd be damned if he let it happen again.

"let me take care of you," he grunted, eyebrows crinkling with an impatience, as if he'd waited years to correct an error.

your gaze softened, before leaning forward to press a kiss against the seam of his lips. "well. if you can, this'll make up for the first."

[strayingawayy]

how not to hard launch your partner...

... the one where there's dating rumours about felix and some actress and he's hellbent on putting them to an end

i think the anon that requested this wanted some angst but i would like to spread the live laugh love felix agenda and make you smile hopefully so here you go <3 (warning: a brief mention of suicide but not really suicide)

your first mistake was letting jisung have the aux.

the second mistake was assuming felix would handle this situation like a normal person.

because now, instead of calmly addressing the false dating rumours about him and some actress, you were sitting in the back of the car with the boys, watching in horror as felix prepared to commit social suicide.

"just let the rumours die," chan begged, as he gripped the steering wheel. "don’t do anything dumb, mate please."

felix, already opening his instagram, grinned. "define ‘dumb.’"

"oh my god," you screeched, lunging for him, but it was too late.

he had hit 'live.'

the car descended into chaos.

"turn it off!" seungmin, the typically calm and composed seungmin, yelled.

"we can still stop this!" hyunjin howled.

but felix, a menace to society, just grinned at the camera like a man unhinged.

"hello, stay," he announced over the screams of his bandmates. "quick q&a session t'night!"

you wanted to die.

the comments were already rolling in at lightning speed.

— oml lixie hiiiiiii

— what’s happening why does seungmin look like he wants to commit a crime

— Wait is it true you’re dating that actress???

felix’s eyes lit up. "oh, that rumour? funny story, actually-"

jisung dived across the van, trying to snatch his phone. felix dodged at the last second.

"felix don’t-"

felix absolutely did.

"that rumour is false," he said, smiling. "wanna know why?"

you shook your head violently. "no, no they don’t-"

felix grabbed your wrist and yanked you into frame.

the comments exploded.

— what

— who is that omg

— the way hannie just threw himself to stop this and failed lmaoooo

felix meanwhile , beamed. "meet my actual partner!"

the screaming in the car reached new heights and you could only thank god that chan was a good enough driver to survive this chaos.

"delete it delete it delete it," hyunjin continued howling.

"we're not even parked yet-" chan yelled.

jisung, now hanging off the van seat, wailed, "div1 is gonna kill us!"

meanwhile, you sat there, frozen in pure horror.

"say hi, baby!" felix chirped.

you turned to him, wide-eyed, unable to use speech as a method of self expression.

felix, still grinning, turned back to the camera. "they’re shy."

the live abruptly ended, because chan finally pried the phone out of his hands and threw it across the car.

there was nothing but silence for a few minutes.

everyone just… stared at you two.

then, jisung groaned, covering his face. "you idiots."

seungmin sighed. "well. at least the whole world knows now."

you turned to felix, who looked way too pleased with himself. "what is wrong with you?!"

felix simply kissed your cheek. "now you never have to worry about rumours again, my jealous lil' baby!"

hyunjin clutched his chest, dramatically,"i need to lie down."

[kanescrochet]

Shades of Silence

Simon 'ghost' Riley X Overlooked!Reader

1130 words

pure fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time she spoke to Ghost, she was holding a clipboard and a cracked radio, trying not to cry.

The comms van had fried again. Nothing unusual. Just one more thing she couldn’t fix fast enough, one more failure in a long string of being not-quite-good-enough. The others didn’t even glance at her anymore — she was background noise in ill-fitting fatigues, frizzy hair tied back with a pencil, eyes hollow from too many nights of not sleeping.

But Ghost stopped.

He stood a few paces away, silent beneath his skull mask, unreadable as always. She wasn’t even sure he’d noticed her until he spoke.

“You alright?”

It was the most anyone had said to her all day.

She blinked. Nodded.

He didn’t press. Just stood there a little longer. Not like he was judging. Like he was… giving her space to come back to herself.

She expected him to leave. Instead, he crouched beside the van and looked under the dash.

“Relay’s fried. You’ve got a spare?”

She hesitated, then knelt beside him, brushing dust from her knees.

“Yeah. In the kit. Just didn’t think anyone’d care.”

“I care if it’s going to get us all killed.”

There was no edge in his voice. No scolding. Just fact.

They fixed it in silence.

When they were done, he stood and gave a small nod. “Good work.”

Then he left.

It was the first time she’d felt real in weeks.

He didn’t seek her out. Not at first. But she started noticing him — not the way everyone else did, not with awe or fear. She saw how he lingered in the corners of rooms, how his gaze tracked exits, how he never really relaxed, even when he sat. He looked like a man stitched together with caution and regret.

But he was also the only one who ever called her by name.

Not “hey you” or “tech” or “supply.” Just her name. Like she wasn’t invisible.

She didn’t know what he saw in her. She was awkward, soft-bodied, quiet. People didn’t flirt with her. They barely spoke to her unless they needed something. But Ghost… he looked at her like he noticed things other people didn’t. Like when her hands trembled or when her eyes were darker than usual from crying in the motor pool.

He never asked.

He just started showing up more.

Once, he handed her a protein bar and didn’t say anything when she muttered thanks without meeting his eyes. Another time, he stood next to her during a debrief, his silent presence making the room feel less like it was caving in. And once — after a mission went south and they lost a man she barely knew but still felt the loss of — she found a note on her desk.

“You don’t have to carry it alone.” No name. Just that.

But she knew it was from him.

They weren’t close. Not officially. No one would’ve called it anything.

But people started looking.

Because Ghost, who didn’t talk to anyone, lingered near the quiet girl in comms. And she, who never smiled, started looking less like she was bracing for the world to break.

They spoke in fragments. In glances. In moments that didn’t look like anything to someone on the outside.

But to her, it was everything.

He didn’t ask her to be anything she wasn’t. He didn’t expect her to be bubbly, or sexy, or less of herself. He didn’t flinch when she admitted she hated mirrors or avoided eating in front of others. He just accepted it. All of it.

“You don’t talk much,” she said once, when they sat beneath a flickering floodlight at the edge of base.

“Neither do you,” he replied.

“I’m just not good at people.”

He turned his head, eyes unreadable behind the skull.

“People aren’t good at you. That’s different.”

She didn’t know what she saw in him at first.

At a distance, he was cold. All mask and menace. The kind of man who stepped into a room and made everyone instinctively clear a path. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t chat. Didn’t offer comfort.

But she watched. She always had been a watcher.

And what she saw — slowly, quietly — was something else.

He was the first to enter dangerous zones and the last to sleep. He always positioned himself near the exits in case something went wrong. He walked the perimeter twice, even when no one asked him to. He memorized the names of the rookies and corrected anyone who got them wrong. He carried guilt like a second skin, even if no one could see it — but she could.

He didn’t speak his care. He showed it.

In the way he passed her water when she looked like she hadn’t eaten. In the way he never touched her without giving her time to see him coming. In the way he noticed her silences weren’t the same every day — and treated them accordingly.

He moved through the world like a man who’d been broken more than once, and who was now determined to be unbreakable. But it wasn’t pride that made him that way.

It was protection.

Of others. Of himself. Of whatever small thing inside him hadn’t yet been shattered.

And maybe that was what drew her in — not the danger, not the mask, not the image.

It was the effort.

The quiet, constant effort he made to keep others safe without asking for anything in return.

She didn’t want someone who swept her off her feet. She wanted someone who wouldn’t drop her.

And Ghost never did.

He didn’t ask her to smile. Didn’t try to pull her out of her shell like a project. He simply… met her where she was.

And she, in turn, learned to meet him in his silence.

Their conversations were short. Muted. But heavy with meaning.

He said her name like it mattered. Not sweetly. Not gently. Just intentionally. With respect.

When she was having a bad day — really bad — she didn’t have to say a word. He could tell. And instead of asking what was wrong, he’d sit beside her without speaking. Sometimes that was all she needed.

He never told her about his past. But she saw enough to fill in the blanks. The scars. The way he startled if a door slammed too loud. The way he stiffened when someone raised their voice. The way he refused to talk about certain cities, certain names, certain dates.

She didn’t need to know everything.

She just needed to let him be.

And that, more than anything, was what made him stay.

He wasn’t used to being left alone without being left behind.

But she did both.

And he came back. Every time.

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Omni!Mark Edition!～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Omni!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, god Mark is trying so hard and it’s got me in a chokehold

Word Count: 2,268

Synopsis: Mark is an unquestioned powerhouse whose following in the steps of his father perfectly – which apparently includes playing the good guy role for a little while here on Earth. After saving the day in a place he had never visited before – Savannah, Georgia – he sees you for the first time, and he finds himself immediately captured by you. And bless his heart; he’s trying real hard.

a/n: waaaait omni-mark is actually too cute with her this turned out so good 😭

you can start reading the main series ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

The explosion rattled every window in downtown Savannah.

You were halfway through handing out church fliers for the bake sale when the sky opened up like the Good Lord Himself had decided to throw hands. Something mechanical shrieked overhead—a hunk of alien tech spiraling out of orbit—and folks scattered like hens. But you? You were too busy trying to help old Miss Calloway get her walker down the courthouse steps to run.

That’s when he showed up.

A blur of red and white streaked past, and the air cracked like thunder. The machine exploded mid-air, scattering debris, but not a single piece touched you. When the smoke cleared, he was hovering there—arms crossed, chest rising slow.

He looked like the kind of man Mama warned you about: handsome as the devil, with a jaw like sin and eyes sharp enough to cut. A blood red and pure white suit, that strange symbol on his chest, and not a hair out of place.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice deep and all business.

You blinked. Smiled. “Well, ain’t you just the tallest glass of sweet tea I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You dusted off your sundress, calm as anything. “I do believe you just saved my hide, sugar.”

He stared at you.

Actually stared. Like you’d grown wings.

“…You’re welcome,” he finally said, stiff as a board.

—

You figured that’d be it. Just another cape breezin’ through town, gone like a summer storm. Lord knew Savannah didn’t have the kind of villain activity to keep someone like him around.

But then, a week later: a bank robbery on Broughton.

You were across the street looking at fabric for a new church dress when the robbers burst in, masks askew and nerves twitchin’. Not thirty seconds passed before the front of the bank exploded outward in a thunderous crash, and guess who came walking through the smoke like Judgement Day in boots?

Omni-Mark.

Two would-be robbers unconscious. A van flipped. The building cracked clear down the façade.

He stood there for a second, breathing like he’d just fought a war. Then those eyes found you again.

“…Are you okay?” Same question. Same voice. Like he didn’t remember asking it the first time.

You dusted off your bag and smiled slow. “I was, until someone sent half the brickwork into my fruit basket.”

He blinked.

Didn’t apologize.

Just nodded once and flew off, leaving the street cracked and the bank’s ATM embedded in a mailbox.

The week after that?

Arson at a seafood joint. Only it wasn’t technically arson—it was an overenthusiastic crawfish boil gone wrong.

And who just so happened to swoop in and rescue two elderly patrons and a plate of hushpuppies?

You guessed it.

By the fourth “coincidence,” you’d had just about enough.

You were at the farmer’s market, haggling over okra and mindin’ your own, when some no-name villain calling himself “Professor Static” tried to rob the honey vendor. The man had jumper cables and a Bluetooth speaker duct-taped to his chest.

And still—here came red-and-white terror incarnate, landing hard enough to knock over a bushel of peaches and sending poor Professor Static into early retirement with one punch.

You didn't even flinch this time. You just turned and said:

“Well if it ain’t my own personal tornado again. You know, I’m startin’ to think the Lord sent you to test my nerves, not save ‘em.”

Mark, still brushing bits of villain off his knuckles, replied earnestly: “There was a threat in the area.”

You tilted your head. “Mmm. And this particular ‘threat’ required a man who can break the sound barrier and throw tanks?”

He blinked like a confused dog. Then just said: “Yes.”

You smiled sweetly. “Well bless your heart. Guess Savannah’s just become real high-priority all of a sudden.”

After that, it escalated.

You’d see him perched on the roof of the Piggly Wiggly while you grocery shopped. He once “coincidentally” flew past your book club meeting—held in the back of a tea shop.

Even the church roof getting repaired wasn’t spared — you caught him “inspecting the structural integrity” one morning. At six a.m.

“Coincidence,” he told you, solemnly.

“Mmhmm,” you replied, sipping your coffee on the porch. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

It all came to a head at the Sunday picnic behind the church.

You’d just handed Pastor Whitmore a plate of deviled eggs when a little boy started crying about his balloon floating up into a pecan tree. Before anyone could grab a step ladder, a sonic boom knocked over three lawn chairs and Omni-Mark landed in a crouch like a soldier behind enemy lines.

He plucked the balloon from the tree with surgical precision, handed it to the wide-eyed boy, then turned—like he couldn’t help it—and locked eyes with you.

You didn’t break your stride. Just walked up to him, parasol bouncing against your shoulder, and smiled.

“Well hey there, stranger,” you said like you hadn’t seen him five times that week. “You just happen to be floatin’ by again today, huh?”

“I was nearby.”

“Oh really?” You tapped your lip with one gloved finger. “Because far as I can tell, Savannah’s been quieter than a cat nap in August—until you started showin’ up.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

You leaned in just a touch, that parasol bouncing lightly on your shoulder, and let your voice drip warm like honey on a biscuit.

“Now sugar, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but if I didn’t know any better…” You paused, let him look at you, take you in like he always did — like he didn’t understand how something so soft could hold his attention so hard. “…I’d say you’re sweet on me.”

That got him.

He stiffened. Visibly. Brows drawn down like you’d just spoken ancient Sumerian.

“I’m what?” he asked.

You blinked. “Sweet on me.”

“…Is that a—threat?”

You nearly choked.

“Well no, darlin’,” you laughed. “It means… you’ve taken a shine to me. Got a fondness. Somethin’ warm and fluttery in your chest every time you see me walk by in a sundress.”

He stared at you like you’d spoken in riddles. “I don’t know if I have that.”

You arched a brow. “You been followin’ me all over town like a lost bloodhound with a crush and you don’t even know?”

“I know I see you,” he said, slowly. “And it… interrupts everything else. I think about you when I’m not near you. I look for you in crowds. I don’t understand it.”

Your heart did a little hiccup. Not that you’d show it.

Then he shifted—just slightly—and gestured behind him like he’d almost forgotten.

“I saw this,” he said, dead serious, “and I thought of you.”

You followed his hand.

And there it was.

A tree. Not just any tree—a full-grown, live oak, trunk thick as your grandmother’s front porch columns, roots still clumped with Georgia clay.

“I brought it,” he added plainly. “For you.”

You turned fully now, dress swishing, lips parted.

“…You brought me a tree.”

“It’s strong,” he said, like he was listing military assets. “Deep roots. It survives storms. And it’s beautiful.”

You stared.

He looked almost… hopeful. Like he wasn’t sure he’d done it right, but he really wanted to.

You pressed your hand to your chest and sighed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Did I choose wrong?” he asked, suddenly uncertain. “Is this not a… courtship gesture?”

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing—though not unkindly. No, it wasn’t mockery—it was fondness. Pure and surprised and maybe just a little fluttery.

“No,” you said at last, stepping up to him. “It ain’t wrong. It’s just…”

You rested your hand gently on the center of his chest, right over that insignia, and smiled.

“…You’re real strong, real fast, and real bad at this.”

He looked down at your hand. At your smile. And for the first time, his posture eased.

“…I’ll learn,” he said.

“Lord help me,” you muttered, half to yourself, “you’re cute—but you sure ain’t right.”

Behind you, someone whispered, “Is that your boyfriend, baby? He brought you a tree.”

You sighed. “No, ma’am. Not yet.” Then looked back at the man who could snap planets in half but was standing there like a schoolboy with a daisy, and added:

“But he’s tryin’ real hard.”

—

You should’ve known the tree was just the beginning.

The very next week, you came back from choir practice, humming “Precious Lord” under your breath with a casserole dish in one arm and a tote bag of hymnals in the other—only to stop dead on the sidewalk.

Because your house?

Was gone.

Completely, utterly gone. Just a smooth patch of red Georgia clay and some very confused squirrels.

You didn’t even drop your casserole. Just squinted at the empty lot and muttered, “Oh, hell.”

You hadn’t even had time to call the police when a blur of red and white landed softly on your lawn—just popped into existence like some kind of good-intentioned superheroic ghost.

Mark stood there with his arms folded, looking like he’d done something monumental and was waiting for you to notice.

“Hi,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I moved your house.”

You blinked. “…You moved my house?”

He nodded. “Yes. I reinforced the supports and rotated it thirty-six degrees for optimal morning exposure. The noise levels in your previous neighborhood were above what I deemed safe. I’ve included natural barriers. Defensive elevation. There’s even a freshwater stream now.”

“…You moved my whole damn house.”

He tilted his head. “Are you… not pleased?”

You finally set the casserole down on a tree stump, took a deep breath, and strode over to him in three deliberate clicks of your Sunday heels.

“Mark, darlin’… I know you mean well,” you began, voice soft and syrupy, “but courtin’ a woman does not involve real estate displacement.”

“I didn’t damage it,” he said quickly. “I preserved everything exactly. Even the wind chimes.”

You pressed two fingers to your temple like you were tryin’ to keep your soul from leavin’ your body.

Mark took a cautious step closer. “Would you… like to see it?”

You stared at him for a long moment, arms crossed tight, casserole cooling on the stump beside you.

“…You moved my house and you want to take me on a field trip to the scene of the crime?”

“I think you’ll like it,” he said, hopeful.

And before you could say yes, no, or bless your heart, he picked you up—gentle, cradling you like you were something breakable—and whooshed into the sky.

The wind tugged at your curls, your heels danglin’ mid-air, and you had half a mind to scold him for flying off with a lady like you were luggage.

But then you saw it.

Set right on the crest of a hill overlooking a winding stream, surrounded by swaying oaks and golden brush, was your house.

Your entire house. Not a board out of place. Porch swing still swayin’. Petunias somehow re-potted on the steps.

It looked like a catalog ad for “Backwoods Dreamin’” — and you had to admit, it was gorgeous. If deeply unhinged.

He landed smoothly and set you down on your front walk like he’d done something sweet instead of city-code-illegal.

“I aligned it so the kitchen gets the sunrise,” he explained. “And you mentioned wanting to see more stars at night, so I calculated the light pollution radius and picked the optimal spot.”

You turned slowly to look at him, expression flat.

“Mark… honey, I said I missed seein’ stars — I didn’t mean for you to relocate me to a planetarium in the woods.”

“…Oh.”

You exhaled, long and slow.

“Alright,” you said, hiking your dress slightly as you climbed the front steps of your own house now resting on foreign soil. “That’s it. We’re havin’ a talk.”

He followed behind like a student reporting to the principal.

You walked into your kitchen, poured sweet tea into two mason jars (still miraculously in your cupboards), and sat him down at the kitchen table like he was about to be scolded by every southern matriarch in history.

You set the jar in front of him before fishing in your purse and pulling out your emergency notepad (every proper southern lady carries one), flipping to a fresh page. Then, in very clear, looping script, you wrote:

How Not to Woo a Woman Like She’s a Hostile Planet(Southern Courting Etiquette for the Superpowered)

No lifting houses. Ever.

Flowers are romantic. Entire ecosystems are overkill.

Don’t solve mild inconveniences with extreme force.

Ask before giftin’ anything that could legally require zoning permits.

No surprise livestock. This includes alien livestock. Especially if they glow.

He peered over your shoulder like this was a test he didn’t study for.

“What’s ‘livestock’?” he asked seriously.

You slowly turned to him. “Did you bring me an animal?”

“…Not anymore.”

You didn’t ask.

You simply handed him the notebook, patted his chest gently, and said, “Study this, darlin’. Hard.”

He took it in both hands like you’d just handed him the Declaration of Independence.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll memorize it. I can learn.”

And Lord help you.

You liked him.

“You’re sweet,” you said, standing and walking over to rest a hand gently on his shoulder. “And dumb as a box of river rocks, but sweet.”

He blinked. “Is that… good?”

You smiled. “Sugar, it’s a start.”

[yzzart]

Ok...so...I was thinking...MORE OF GIRLDAD! DANTE. I wanna see more of his wife and daughter. How would Eva and Nero interact? Maybe?

⋆˚࿔ LIKE FATHER, LIKE DAUGHTER.. ── PART TWO.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: Dante being a girl's dad, Interactions between Nero and Eva, mention of Kyrie and Nico, part one is here!

⭑.ᐟ Children ask questions, question everything, absolutely everything, and it was normal. — And, of course, Eva couldn't skip, omit this phase of her little curiosity. — Every two minutes, or only during the times when you or Dante put her to sleep, she asked something.

⤷ Dante, being the main victim of her questions, didn't know how to answer — he always got confused, saying things that didn't make sense; he tried in every way to change the subject, but he never managed to — and he always asked, begged, for your help. — But, there were some questions, about a subject, or rather, someone specific that Dante never failed to answer; his daughter always asked about her grandmother.

⤷ Eva asked about Eva; it was funny, any creature could agree. — Little Eva, especially when she was going to sleep, would ask what her grandmother was like; both her appearance, her characteristics, her story. — She always showed her curiosity, enthusiasm when it came to her. — Dante spent hours and hours talking to his daughter about his mother, he didn't care what time it might be, that was the only rule that father and daughter liked to break.

⤷ One night, while the only dim light that was present in the hallway came from the little child's room, Dante was there; showing a photo he kept of his mother to Eva. — It was the only photo he had in his hands and he considered it a treasure, something precious. — The old but so beautiful, angelic image of Eva was admired by her granddaughter.

⭑.ᐟ Nero, even with his classic temperament — influenced by the blood that runs through his veins — always got along well with little Eva; sometimes, he took it upon himself to take care of her, because of you and not because of the annoying and comedic demon hunter. — He made fun, mocked Dante's jokes and puns in front of Eva.

⤷ And she was still laughing! Dante's heart was breaking, with so much sadness and melodrama, with the terrible betrayal; this was unacceptable. — She could only laugh at the provocations, the small humiliations, if they were done by you. — That man was whipped by you.

“If your father were to live as a comedian, he would starve.” — Nero pointed the screwdriver at the little girl, shaking it and crossing his arms. — “Like, the most precarious situation of hunger.” — Eva’s cheerful, radiant laugh echoed through the garage. — “That old man wouldn’t even support a crow.”

⤷ Nero was fond of his adorable little cousin; considering he was good with children. — On the days he looked after Eva, he would take her to meet the orphans he fed and cared for, alongside Kyrie; thus, forming friends.

“Can i stay with Nero today, please?” — Eva asked, tugging on the hem of her father’s gray and slightly dirty shirt, who, just hearing that name, sighed deeply. — “He promised he would take me for a ride in the van with Nico.”

“I’m losing my daughter to that brat.” — Your husband complained, exaggeratedly, drama overflowing his chest.

⭑.ᐟ Dante had loved his daughter's eyes ever since he first held her in his arms; those little orbs perfectly resembled your own. — They showed, transmitted an air of sweetness, pure ingenuity, something that was divinely beautiful. — Just like yours.

⤷ You insisted; claiming it was a mix between you and him. — However, Dante denied it, maintaining his concrete certainty. — Eva had your eyes.

[sevsevteen]

OMG ANOTHWR CARATINY!! I’m absolutely loving catching up with ur page every week, and thank you for taking my requests!! (The scoups fix was one of them lol)

Another thing I’ve been thinking about is the little ways 14th member might look out for the others, like always bringing extra food for Vernon or secretly setting reminders to stretch while producing for Woozi. Just the small things😊😊

-⭐️anon (imma use this cause im always in ur inbox LMAO)

AHHH CARATINYS UNITE 🫶 welcome to the club ⭐️ anon ^^ thank you for your requests !! i love to see it hehe — ive thought of a few headcanons for the little things oc would do, literal pure fluff argh

-- ★*☆♪

“Have you eaten?” You asked casually, sliding into the van beside Vernon. The early morning schedules made everyone a little sluggish, a little forgetful.

He blinked at you through his beanie, earbuds still in. “Huh? No, not yet.”

“Thought so.” You reached into your bag to pull out a small paper bag, handing it to him without much thought. Inside? A toasted egg sandwich, lightly buttered, with just the right amount of pepper and cheese. Vernon’s eyes lit up.

“Wait— is this—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted, pretending to scroll on your phone. “The one you always eye from Mingyu’s stash. Figured I’d save you the guilt.”

He chuckled, already unwrapping it, cheeks pink. “You’re my lifesaver.”

“Yeah, yeah. Pay me back by not eating anyone else’s lunch today.” Your lips curled up a little.

.

Everyone knew once Woozi was in the studio, time stopped existing for him. Meals? Irrelevant. Moving? Nonexistent. Breathing properly? Questionable.

So, you set up a quiet system.

You’d text him every few hours.

“Stand up. Stretch. I mean it.”

If he didn’t reply in 10 minutes, you’d call.

And if he still ignored it? You’d bribe Dino into barging into the studio with a protein shake in one hand and a reminder in the other.

Once, when you stopped by before your schedule to quietly drop off a bento box at the studio, you noticed it was still sitting cold when you came back four hours later.

You sighed, finding Woozi in the same position, one leg curled under him, back hunched, staring at his monitor.

Without a word, you gently placed your hand on his back, and whispered, “You’re going to destroy your spine.”

“I was almost done with this part,” he mumbled, not even looking.

You placed the bento beside his keyboard. “Eat. Even if it’s just a few bites. And I’m setting another alarm on your phone to remind you to stretch in an hour.”

You bent over slightly and tapped the corner of his phone screen. “Don’t even think about snoozing it, I have eyes everywhere.”

Woozi groaned, but muttered a thank you under his breath, already peeling open the lid. His smile was small - but real.

.

“Does anyone know my shoe size?” Hoshi’s voice rang out from his room, voice loud enough to travel through his closed door.

Mingyu looked at you from the other side of the couch, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he screamed back: “Why are you asking us? Aren’t they your own feet??”

The door opened, Hoshi’s head peeking out.

“It’s 270, Hoshi.” You muttered lazily, eyes only leaving your phone once to the man.

He grinned. “You're the best!” You felt Mingyu's feet nudge yours, his jaw dropped in shock.

.

You squinted at your screen, looking at how the group chat message stayed at a ‘12’ instead of the usual ‘13’.

A swipe of your finger brought you right to Seungcheol’s profile, pressing the dial button directly.

It rang thrice. Then:

“Hello?”

“Choi Seungcheol-ssi,” you spoke sweetly. “You’ve been online playing games for three hours. Get up. Drink water. Maybe move your limbs a little?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, “Don‘t call me that! And…how did you know I was playing?”

“Because I texted Wonwoo and he’s in your party.”

“Traitor,” Seungcheol grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m not saying you’re old. But if you don’t stretch now, your back is going to sound like bubble wrap tomorrow.”

“I am stretching,” he insisted. “See?” A vague groan in the background followed.

You smiled. “Okay, whatever you say Cheol-ie. I’ll call back in an hour.”

.

Wonwoo’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.

💫: “Get out of bed, stretch, and get some air. You haven’t moved all day, have you?”

Wonwoo huffed out a laugh under his breath, thumbs flying across the screen.

🐈‍⬛: “Did you install security cameras in my room?”

💫: “Nope. I’m worse than that. I care and I nag.”

He grinned at that, tossing his blanket off and dragging himself up with a long sigh.

--

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — part 4

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 20k

MASTERLIST

Blood.

The warm, red liquid splatters onto your face, dripping down your neck and soaking into your clothes. For a split second, your mind blanks.

You’ve been shot?

You freeze, waiting for the pain to hit, for the sting of a bullet tearing through flesh. But there’s nothing. No sharp ache. No burning sensation.

Not you.

Your gaze shifts downward. The woman in front of you staggers, her breath hitching painfully in her throat. Her wide eyes stare at the man in front of her in shock, unblinking, as blood pours from the gaping wound in her neck. The bullet has lodged itself on the right side, just above her collarbone. Her lips move—trying to form words, trying to breathe—but all that comes out is a gurgled wheeze.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, the world tilting sideways as you try to make sense of what just happened. You turn your head, slow and deliberate, your body moving on instinct rather than thought.

Jungwon. He’s still crouched near the van, his hands empty. The rifle remains untouched on the ground beside him, exactly where he left it. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, wide with alarm, but it’s not him.

Your gaze shifts forward.

Sunoo. He’s mid-tackle, slamming into the man with the rifle. Smoke curls lazily from the barrel, the sharp scent of gunpowder stinging your nose.

The woman collapses into a heap at your feet, her blood pooling beneath her.

For a moment, everything stands still.

Silent.

Still.

Then—

Chaos.

A heart-wrenching scream cuts through the silence, raw and broken.

“No!” The man in front of you drops to his knees, his voice cracking as he cradles the woman’s body.

It’s a sound you’ll never forget. Pure grief. Devastation.

Your hands tremble, the knife slipping from your fingers and clattering uselessly to the ground. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Your mind races, but your body remains frozen, your legs rooted in place. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin, smell the metallic tang in the air, taste the bitterness on your tongue.

You blink once. Twice.

No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The plan was to scare them off. To protect your people. To survive.

But now there’s a woman lying dead at your feet, and you’re the one who held her hostage. You’re the one who brought her into this.

Would this be how it played out in Jay’s mind every night since it happened—the same nightmare on repeat? The man with the knife. The girl he cared so much for held hostage, and later had her life ripped away from her right in front of him. The choice he made to satisfy his hunger for revenge.

Would you now become the monster in someone else’s story? The monster who leaves nothing but broken people in their wake? The one they obsess over, hunt down, seeking revenge? You’ve seen what grief can do, how it festers and twists until there’s nothing left but hatred and the singular need for retribution.

Your chest tightens painfully, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. You don’t even realise you’re shaking until you feel the tremor in your legs. Everything feels wrong—so, so wrong.

Movement.

Ni-ki sprints across from the front of the van, no longer bound. He’s quick, his hands working fast to untie the ropes holding Sunghoon, Jake and Heeseung. Jake is already moving, reaching for the med kit, but he falters, his gaze falling on the lifeless body on the ground.

Sunoo is still wrestling the man with the rifle, their grunts and shouts blending into the background noise of your panic. The other two attackers stand frozen, clearly in shock. They don’t move. They don’t reach for their weapons.

Maybe they’re victims too.

Maybe they didn’t want this.

None of you did.

Everything is happening too fast.

Your mind screams at you to move, to react, but your body refuses to obey. You don’t even catch the shift in the man at your feet—the subtle way his grief twists into rage—until it’s too late.

His hand shoots out, grabbing you by the throat.

You gasp, your hands flying to his arm, trying to pry his fingers loose. His grip is like iron, crushing your windpipe, cutting off your air. Black spots dance in your vision as he drags you closer, his bloodshot eyes locking onto yours with pure hatred. His face is twisted, consumed by pain, fury, and vengeance.

“You—” he spits, his voice raw with grief. “You did this. You—”

A gunshot. Sudden. Sharp. Deafening.

The pressure around your neck disappears instantly. The man collapses to the ground, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut, right next to the woman. Blood seeps from the bullet wound in his temple, his expression frozen in an eternal snarl.

Your hands fly to your throat, coughing and gasping for breath as you stumble backwards. The world spins, your lungs burning as you suck in desperate gulps of air.

Jungwon. He’s standing now, rifle in hand, his gaze locked on the lifeless man on the ground. His expression is unreadable—calm, composed—but there’s something dark lurking behind his eyes.

You wipe the blood from your face with trembling hands, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Everything feels surreal. Disjointed. Like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

Jungwon steps closer, lowering the rifle. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet. Controlled. “Are you alright?”

You nod, though you’re not sure if it’s true. Your voice won’t come, stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled with the sobs you’re trying to suppress.

You don’t even have time to catch your breath when you hear the scream tear through the air, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Your head snaps forward, your heart plummeting into your stomach. Sunoo’s down—pinned to the dirt—his hands grappling uselessly as the man he tackled scrambles to his feet, grabbing the fallen rifle.

Sunghoon is already sprinting toward him, but he’s too far. He won’t make it in time. The man grips the rifle tightly, his eyes wild with panic and grief, and before you can even think to move, he spins—locking the crosshairs squarely on you.

The world slows. You see it all in perfect, horrifying detail. His hands trembling as he raises the weapon. His lips pressed into a thin line. The way his chest heaves with shallow, erratic breaths. And the tears. The tears welling up in his eyes, glistening as they fall.

He’s going to do it.

Your feet won’t move. You’re rooted to the ground, frozen by the realisation.

He’s going to kill you.

And you deserve it, don’t you? After what just happened—after the woman died at your hands, after everything that’s led to this moment—maybe this is the inevitable outcome. His finger tightens on the trigger.

You close your eyes. You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. The thought crashes over you like a wave. This is it.

And then—

The gunshot.

It echoes through the surrounding, deafening, final.

You’re not dead. Slowly, shakily, you open your eyes. Your knees buckle, nearly giving out beneath you at the sight before you.

Jay.

With his pistol in hand, dangling at his side. He must’ve circled around to retrieve it—used the chaos, used you as the distraction. He could’ve taken the shot clean. He could’ve stayed hidden, waited for the right angle, and taken down the guy aiming for you without risking himself.

But he didn’t.

Jay is standing in front of you.

His body sways slightly, his stance unsteady, but he holds firm. There’s blood—so much blood—it seeps through his shirt, dark and spreading fast, soaking the fabric and dripping down his side. So much blood. It stains the hem of his jacket and clings to his skin like oil, like ink.

You blink, unable to process what you’re seeing, unwilling to believe it.

Jay took a bullet for you.

The bullet hit him in the side, just below his ribs—aimed for him but meant for you. If he hadn’t taken it, it would’ve hit you square in the heart.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Then he drops to his knees.

“No. No, no, no.” The words tumble from your lips as you rush to his side, your hands shaking as you reach out to steady him. “Jay, why—why would you—”

He lets out a sharp breath, cutting you off. His usual glare is gone, replaced with something softer. Weaker. Human.

“Couldn’t let you die,” he says, his voice strained but steady. “Not like that.”

Your chest tightens painfully, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “You—stupid—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, managing a weak chuckle. “I’ve heard that before.”

Ahead of you, Sunghoon reaches Sunoo, pulling him to his feet. The shooter is on his knees, his hands raised in surrender, his rifle now in the hands of Ni-ki.

But none of that matters right now. All you can see is Jay. All you can think about is the blood on your hands—his blood—and how he took that bullet for you.

“We need to get him back to the van,” Jake’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind, calm but urgent. He kneels beside you, his gaze locking onto Jay’s. “You’ll be alright. Just hold on.”

Jay’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Didn’t… think you cared.”

Jake’s jaw clenches. “Shut up.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon sprint over, their footsteps pounding against the dirt. “We’ve got him,” Heeseung says, already lifting Jay’s arm over his shoulder.

Jake rushes forward with the med kit, his face pale. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

You stay by Jay’s side, your hands hovering uselessly. Why did he do it? Why would he risk everything for you?

As they lift him, Jay’s gaze meets yours again, his eyes slightly glassy. “Don’t…,” he murmurs, barely audible.

“What?” you lean in closer, holding your ear close to his lips but he fails to conjure enough energy to speak.

Guilt. Fear. Regret. It all coils inside you, twisting and knotting until it takes shape—rage.

White-hot, blinding rage.

You barely register your own movements as you lunge forward, your hand closing around Jay’s pistol lying in a pool of his own blood. The metal feels cold against your skin, slick with crimson that seeps between your fingers. It makes you sick, but not enough to stop you. Not enough to drown out the fury coursing through your veins.

Your legs move on their own, shaky but determined, carrying you over the lifeless bodies sprawled across the dirt. The crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot echoes in your ears, drowned out by the pounding of your heart. You don’t falter. Not when you reach him—the one who pulled the trigger.

He’s on his knees, trembling, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief. His hands are raised in a futile plea for mercy, but you’ve got none to give. Not now. Not after Jay.

The gun feels heavier in your hand than it should, weighted down by blood and grief. You raise it slowly, deliberately, your aim locking onto his forehead. He flinches, his lips trembling as if to beg, but you don’t hear his words. You don’t care.

Your finger curls around the trigger. But just as you’re about to squeeze, a deafening gunshot shatters the air.

Your body jolts, your eyes snapping wide as the man before you crumples to the ground, blood pooling from a clean shot through his skull. You freeze, the gun still raised, your breathing ragged as you process what just happened.

Slowly, you turn.

Jungwon stands a few feet behind you, the rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder, barrel still smoking. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—dark and piercing—say everything he doesn’t. His hands are steady, his grip unwavering. There’s no hesitation in him. No regret.

He lowers the rifle slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence between you is deafening, save for the fading echo of the gunshot ringing in your ears.

You drop the pistol, the weight of it suddenly too much to bear. It hits the ground with a dull thud, splattering crimson droplets across the dirt and all over your boots. Your arms fall limply to your sides, trembling as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jungwon steps closer, each footfall deliberate, cautious. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet but firm. “You don’t need to carry that weight.”

His words linger in the air, but they don’t sink in—not yet. Your gaze drifts back to the lifeless bodies, to Jay lying still in the back of the van, blood staining the carpet beneath him.

You swallow hard, your voice barely a whisper. “He saved me.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to Jay before settling back on you. “I know.”

You close your eyes briefly, guilt gnawing at your insides, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “I was going to kill him.”

“I know that too.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “And you did it for me.”

Jungwon exhales softly, his voice steady. “No. I did it for me.”

The weight of his words sinks in, pressing down on your chest. There’s no solace in them, no comfort. What did he mean? He did it for himself?

The echo of the gunshot lingers in the air, a haunting reminder of what just happened. But it doesn’t linger alone for long. The groans begin—a low, guttural sound that rises from the treeline like a warning bell.

The dead are coming.

Jungwon hears it too. His head snaps toward the trees, his hand tightening around the rifle. "We need to go," he says, voice clipped and urgent.

You nod numbly, forcing your legs to move. You turn back towards the van, your steps unsteady, mind racing to catch up with the chaos around you. Sunghoon is already at the van, throwing the back doors open. Jake is inside, frantically working with Heeseung and Sunoo to keep pressure on Jay’s wound, their hands slick with blood. Jay groans, shifting weakly, his eyes fluttering open for a brief second before closing again.

"Let’s go!" Ni-ki quickly pours however much gas he can from the canister into the fuel tank, packs up whatever's left and jumps into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The engine sputters to life, the familiar rumble somehow grounding you in reality. You climb into the van, pulling the door shut behind you.

The van rumbles down the cracked road, each bump jostling Jay in the back as Jake works tirelessly to slow the bleeding. The tension is suffocating, thick and heavy in the air. The only sounds inside are laboured breaths, the low hum of the engine, and the faint groans of the dead growing more distant.

Then—footsteps. Rapid. Desperate.

You glance out the back window and see them—the two remaining men from the other group. It was so chaotic that you don’t even remember seeing them around the area. Maybe they hid in fear. Doesn't matter. Because they're running now, stumbling over roots and rocks, trying to keep up with the van. They’ve ditched their weapons. They’re unarmed, vulnerable. And terrified.

One of them shouts, his voice hoarse. "Wait! Please! Don’t leave us!"

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. Your mind flashes back to the chaos moments earlier—the gunfire, the blood, the woman collapsing at your feet. These two men had stood by, not pulling the trigger but not stopping it either. Complicit of your actions.

"Jungwon," you whisper, your gaze flicking to him. He’s sitting in the front passenger seat, his rifle resting on his lap. His eyes are hard, his jaw set. He doesn’t look back at you.

Behind the van, the men stumble again. One of them falls to his knees, chest heaving, before scrambling back to his feet. "We’re sorry!" the other shouts, his voice cracking. "We didn’t want it to go this far! Please, we just want to live!"

The van lurches forward, and you feel the weight of their desperation pressing down on your chest.

"They’re unarmed," you say quietly, though you’re not sure if it’s a statement or an excuse. "They don’t have anything left."

Jungwon finally speaks, his voice low and steady. "Neither did we. Didn’t stop them from coming after us."

"They’re running," you counter. "Not fighting."

"They’re running because they lost," Jungwon says coldly, his gaze locked on the road ahead. "If we stop, they’ll turn on us the second they get the chance."

In the rearview mirror, you catch Ni-ki’s expression—stoic, but his clenched jaw betrays his unease. Jake doesn’t look up from Jay, focused on keeping him alive, while Sunghoon grips the other rifle tighter, his knuckles white.

The men’s voices grow louder, more desperate. "We’ll do anything!" one of them screams. "We’ll work for you—protect you! Please, just don’t leave us here!"

You can feel the eyes of the group on you, waiting for your reaction. It’s suffocating.

And then, one of the men stumbles again, falling hard to the ground. He stays there this time, his hands pressed to his knees as he gasps for air. The other one slows down, grabbing his friend’s arm, pulling him up.

"Y/N." It’s Jungwon’s voice, cutting through your thoughts like a blade. "We don’t have time for this."

Your gaze flicks to him. His eyes meet yours—steady, unwavering. But there’s something else in them. Something more. Regret? Sadness? You can’t tell.

"They don’t have a weapon," you say again, quieter this time. "They’re not a threat."

Jungwon exhales sharply. "They were part of the group that almost killed you. That shot Jay. That held the rest of them hostage."

"That woman—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. That woman begged for her life. She was just as scared as they are now. And you stood there. You let her die.

Your heart twists painfully in your chest.

Sunghoon, sitting in the corner with his arms hanging over his knees, finally speaks. His voice is softer than usual. "We can’t save everyone."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. He’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Jungwon nods once, his expression hardening again. "Keep driving," he says to Ni-ki. The latter hesitates for a moment, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. Then he presses his foot on the accelerator, and the van picks up speed.

"No!" the man screams behind you, his voice breaking. "Please! We don’t want to die!"

You can’t look away as they fade into the distance. One of them collapses again, clutching his chest as he gasps for air. The other tries to pull him up, but they’re too slow. Too weak.

And then, the groans return. The dead have caught their scent.

They’re going to die.

Your chest feels like it’s being crushed. You press your hand against the window, watching as the two men disappear from sight. Jungwon doesn’t say anything. Neither does anyone else.

You lean back against the van, the weight of what just happened settles over you, suffocating and inescapable.

They begged for mercy but you left them anyway. This shouldn’t surprise you. It’s the right call, after all. And if you’d been alone, you know you’d have done the same thing. Survival over sympathy—that’s the rule you’ve lived by since the community building fell. You don’t waste time mourning strangers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’re not alone anymore.

And as the van jolts over the uneven road, the weight of that difference presses heavily on your chest. Jay’s words from earlier echo in your mind, cutting through the silence like a knife:

The whole point of this group—the way Jungwon leads us—is to make sure we don’t become the monsters we ran away from.

It hits you then, the realisation settling like a stone in your stomach. Maybe a part of you wanted to protect something for them. To preserve that fragile thread of humanity they’ve managed to hold onto in this fucked up world.

But all you did was shatter it. Leaving behind the cold hard truth of survival.

You see it in their faces now. The way Sunoo curls in on himself, as if he’s trying to disappear. The way Sunghoon’s jaw clenches tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. The way Jake’s hands tremble ever so slightly as he presses another bandage to Jay’s side. The way Heeseung is wiping away the sweat forming on Jay’s forehead, almost absentmindely. Even Ni-ki, who’s been quiet since you left that village, looks lost in thought, his grip on the wheel a little too tight.

And then there’s Jungwon.

He’s always been the calm in the storm. The one who makes the hard decisions so no one else has to carry that weight. But right now, he looks as hollow as you feel. He’s sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, his gaze locked on the road ahead. His rifle rests across his lap, but his hands aren’t on it. They’re clenched into fists, pressed tightly against his thighs, like he’s carrying something far too heavy for one person to bear.

You glance down at your hands, noticing the faint red stains on your palms. Blood of all that lost and almost lost their lives. You wipe them on your jeans, but the stain lingers in your mind.

If you’d run into this group back at that auto shop—if they were the people they are now: hardened, desperate, with the blood of three strangers on their hands—they wouldn’t have kept you alive.

They wouldn’t have let you speak.

They wouldn’t have given you a chance to prove your worth.

It would’ve been a cold, practical choice. Eliminate the threat before it had the chance to grow. And you wouldn’t have blamed them.

But now? You wonder if they’re blaming you. Blaming you for the decision to leave those two men behind. For the way things spiralled.

The woman’s face flashes in your mind. Her wide, terrified eyes. The blood pooling around her body. “We’ve crossed a line,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the hum of the van’s engine. Jungwon’s head tilts slightly, but he doesn’t look at you.

No one argues. No one tries to convince you otherwise.

Because they all know it’s true.

Sunoo finally speaks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “We’ve crossed plenty of lines before.”

“Not like this,” you murmur, your words settling heavily between you all.

Ni-ki shifts in the driver’s seat, breaking the silence. “What do we do now?”

No one answers. Because none of you know. Not even Jungwon. And you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of the end. Not for the world—it ended a long time ago.

But for this group. For the fragile hope that’s kept them all going.

You lean your head back against the window, eyes drifting shut.

You’ve crossed a line. And you know you’re going to keep crossing lines, one after another, until there’s no point of return.

Ironically, that’s the one thing you’ve been trying so desperately to hold onto—your sanity, your humanity.

And now you’re afraid. Afriad of how the weight of their survival—the choices you’ll have to make, the risks you’ll have to take—is going to change you.

You’ve spent so long fighting to hold onto the parts of yourself that still feel human. That separates you from the dead that damned the earth.

Your boundaries, your morals, the thin, fragile line between surviving and losing who you are. You told yourself that as long as you had those things—those pieces of yourself—you wouldn’t become just another product of this world’s cruelty.

But now, you can feel that line blurring.

Whatever you said to Jay back in that field, about how wanting justice or revenge makes you human—you’re not so sure if you believe that anymore.

Because protecting them might mean crossing lines you swore you never would. It might mean compromising the very things that make you you.

And isn’t that how it starts?

One compromise. One choice made out of desperation. One decision that feels necessary in the moment.

Then another.

And another.

Until one day, you look at yourself and don’t recognise the person staring back. Until you realise you’re no different from the people you swore you’d never become.

And that’s what terrifies you.

Not them.

But the person you might become for them.

“Ni-ki pull over. We’ll stop here for today.” Jungwon speaks, the first words uttered from any of you in the past hour and a half or so. The sun is still out, early afternoon by what you can tell.

Ni-ki’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as he glances in the rear-view mirror. “We’ve still got a few hours of sunlight. We can keep going. We’ll reach the rest stop by dusk,” he says, confusion lacing his voice. But despite his words, he slows the van and pulls it to the side of the cracked road.

“We’ll stop here for today,” Jungwon repeats softly, his gaze fixed ahead. His tone leaves no room for argument.

The van grinds to a halt with a jolt, the engine ticking as it cools in the quiet. For a moment, no one moves.

“I can hear your stomach growling,” Jungwon says, glancing at Ni-ki with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s take a short break. Eat something before we move on, yeah?”

It’s a lie. You all know it. His voice lacks its usual firmness, and there’s no mistaking the heaviness in the air. No one argues, though. There’s a quiet understanding that Jungwon needs space, and this cramped van isn’t offering him any. So, without a word, everyone begins moving, stretching out stiff limbs and gathering what little supplies remain to set up camp by the roadside.

Jungwon heads straight for the edge of the road, lowering himself onto the ground with a weary sigh. He pulls his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them as he stares into the distance. The way he sits—hunched, small—makes your chest ache. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and for once, you can’t blame him. He had to pull the trigger today. Twice. On strangers who, by all rights, had it coming. But that doesn’t make it any easier. Killing people, even in self-defence, leaves a mark. One that never quite fades.

You take a hesitant step toward him, considering whether to offer him someone to talk to. But before you can get far, Heeseung catches your arm, shaking his head. His gaze is soft but firm.

“Let him be,” Heeseung murmurs. “He needs time.”

You nod, pulling back, though the guilt lingers in your chest. Jungwon shouldn’t have to bear this alone. None of you should.

Behind you, Sunoo’s voice breaks the tense silence. “Seriously? This is all we’ve got left?” His frustration is palpable as he crouches by the van, rummaging through the supply bag. “I swear we had five extra cans of beans last night.”

You tear your gaze away from Jungwon, forcing yourself to focus on the immediate problem. Food. Or rather, the lack of it. You walk over to where Ni-ki and Sunoo are crouched, the bag of supplies between them. The way they sift through it—careful, precise—makes the meagre contents all the more depressing.

“Are we running low?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intend.

“Yeah.” Sunoo’s lips twist into a grimace. “Those bastards—sorry, I mean, those men from earlier—they ate some of our food while we were waiting for you to get back.”

Even in the apocalypse, it seems disrespecting the dead doesn’t sit well.

You peer into the bag, taking stock. Two dented cans of baked beans. Five energy bars. One sad little sachet of instant coffee. And a leftover packet of ramen seasoning. It’s pitiful. Barely enough to sustain eight people. And Jay needs more than this. He needs proper food. Protein. Calories to help his body recover.

Your gaze shifts to the van. Jay is still lying flat on his back, propped up by makeshift bedding. His chest rises and falls slowly, his bandages soaked through with dried blood. His eyes are closed, but the furrow in his brow betrays the pain he’s in.

“We’re not going to make it far on this,” you say, glancing at Heeseung. “Not with Jay in that state.”

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. His fingers snag on the tangles, and he winces, but he doesn’t stop. “I know. We’ll reach the rest stop soon, hopefully they left something for us there.”

“Soon isn’t good enough.” Jake crouches down, picking up one of the cans, it looks almost too light in his hands. “Jay’s barely hanging on.”

Sunghoon nods in agreement. “And Ni-ki’s right. We could’ve kept going. We should’ve kept going.”

“We can’t push too hard,” Heeseung counters gently. “Jungwon…” His gaze flickers toward the figure still sitting at the roadside. “He’s trying to keep it together, but he’s hanging by a thread.”

You follow his gaze, watching Jungwon’s silhouette against the pale afternoon sky. He hasn’t moved from his spot. He sits so still, like a statue carved from grief and exhaustion.

“What do we do?” you ask quietly.

Heeseung exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “We give him a moment. And then we keep moving. We don’t have a choice.”

The words sit heavy in the air. You know he’s right. There’s no time to stop, no time to rest—not really. The dead don’t wait. And neither does the world that’s out to kill you.

You glance at Jay again. His lips are pale, his skin clammy. He shifts slightly, letting out a soft groan of pain.

“We’ll get him through this,” Heeseung says, his voice firm with quiet determination. “We’ve made it this far. We’re not losing anyone else.”

His words aren’t loud, but they don’t need to be. They carry weight, grounding everyone in a way that feels almost tangible. You watch as the effect of his reassurance ripples through the group, see how the flicker of hope reignites in their faces, how determination replaces the exhaustion etched into their features.

Your respect for Heeseung grows.

He isn’t trying to be the leader, isn’t trying to take Jungwon’s place, but his presence is undeniable. He’s become the steady force they need right now, the glue holding them together when everything feels like it’s about to fall apart.

And in that moment, you realise something you hadn’t before: maybe the strength of this group doesn’t rest on just one person. Maybe it’s not just Jungwon who holds them together.

It’s all of them.

All of them, picking up the pieces when one of them falters, stepping in without hesitation when someone needs support. Even if it means carrying more weight than they’re used to, they do it. Without complaint. Without hesitation.

And you can’t help but wonder if Jungwon knows.

Knows how much they lean on each other when he can’t carry the weight himself. Knows how much his own silence and retreat weigh on the group. Knows how they’re quietly filling the gaps he’s leaving behind, steadying themselves and each other without blame or resentment.

You wonder if he realises that even though he leads, it’s not his burden alone. It never was. It’s all of theirs, shared in a way that keeps them moving forward—even when it feels impossible.

And you want to believe him. Believe that you’ll get through this. But as you look at the dwindling supplies and the fading light of day, a gnawing doubt takes root in your chest.

You push yourself to your feet, brushing dirt from your hands as you glance around the makeshift camp.

“We can’t just sit here waiting for the rest of the world to collapse around us,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’m going into the forest to hunt. I could bring back some game for all of us.”

Heeseung immediately rises to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” you reply quickly. The sharpness in your tone makes him pause. “I’m going alone.”

Heeseung’s brows knit together, concern flickering across his face. “It’s not safe out there. You shouldn’t—”

“I said no,” you cut him off, your gaze locking with his. There’s a finality in your voice that stops him from pressing further. Heeseung knows better than to argue with a woman bleeding her fury. His shoulders slump slightly, and he nods once, reluctantly stepping back.

The group needs Heeseung to rely on at the moment, and having him come along will only plunge them into deeper anxiety.

You know it’s dangerous not having anyone to watch your back. One wrong step or a moment of inattention could end everything. But that also means you don’t have to worry about watching someone else’s back.

And frankly, you’d rather be alone right now. You don’t have the capacity to look out for someone else. You’re mentally disoriented, emotions frayed and teetering on the edge of control. In this state, you’re probably more dangerous than the dead if someone presses the wrong buttons.

Human beings, right? How weak they are. Easily impressionable, quick to trust the wrong person, to follow blindly. Stupid, with an unmatched talent for self-destruction. They build, only to tear themselves apart. They cling to fragile hopes and ideals that crumble at the first sign of adversity.

It’s baffling how you and these people even made it through the initial chaos of the outbreak that rattled the world.

Without another word, you head toward the van. The air feels heavier with each step, your thoughts churning in your mind as you approach the vehicle. You reach the foot of the van, reaching down to grab your bag and Jay’s bow, when a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

You freeze, your hand still on the strap of your bag. Slowly, you turn to see Jay sitting upright in the van, his eyes half-lidded but sharp, piercing through the haze of pain he’s in.

Your heart skips a beat. He knows.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Jay’s lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. “Because I was going to. Back then… when I lost her.” His gaze drops to his lap, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket covering his legs. “The pain was so unbearable that I didn’t think I could handle losing anyone else. I just wanted to be alone with her ghost.”

Your chest tightens at his words. There’s so much grief buried in his voice, a sadness so deep that it feels like it could swallow you whole.

“She must’ve really meant a lot to you,” you say.

“The world,” says Jay, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was my world. But then I found new meaning to keep going. To keep these people safe, no matter what it costs me.”

You shake your head, guilt settling in your chest like a stone. “Now, look at the state I’ve got you in,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re not keeping anybody safe like this.”

Jay’s gaze lifts, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity that takes you by surprise. “I kept you safe, didn’t I?”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a wave. You don’t know what to say. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone worth saving—worth sacrificing for.

“Jay…” you trail off, your throat tight.

“Just promise me,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the pain etched into his features. “Promise me you won’t run off.”

You hesitate, your grip tightening on your bag. Lying to him feels wrong, but you can’t give him false hope. You can’t promise something you know you won’t keep.

So you compromise.

“I’ll make sure you’re alive before I do,” you say, your voice wavering with a bitter edge of truth.

Jay chuckles quietly, though it sounds more like a soft exhale of exhaustion. “That’s the best I’m going to get from you, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer, but your silence speaks volumes.

He leans back against the van’s wall, his gaze drifting to the sky outside. “You’re stronger than you think, you know. But you’re also more stubborn than you realise.”

You laugh softly, a sound that surprises even you. “Takes one to know one.”

Jay smiles faintly, but the warmth of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just… be careful. You’ve got more people who care about you than you think.”

His words settle into your chest, heavy and uncomfortable. You don’t respond. You can’t. The knot in your throat makes it impossible to speak.

Instead, you sling your bag over your shoulder and adjust your weapon, giving Jay one last look before turning away. His eyes follow you, but he doesn’t say anything more. As you walk toward the treeline, your footsteps slow. The implication of Jay’s words hangs over you, intertwining with the growing ache in your chest.

The forest feels heavier than it should. Each step you take presses down on the dry leaves and twigs beneath your boots, the crunch echoing in the otherwise still air. You keep your grip firm on the knife in your hand, eyes scanning your surroundings for any sign of movement. It’s eerily quiet, but that’s how it always is now. The world hasn’t made a sound in a long time—at least not the kind that reassures you that life still exists.

You don’t know how far you’ve walked. Maybe a mile. Maybe more. The camp is long out of sight, and the silence in the trees feels more oppressive with each step. There’s no wind, no birdsong, no rustling of leaves. Just you, your footsteps, and your thoughts.

I kept you safe, didn’t I?

It stings. Not because it’s untrue, but because it is. He did keep you safe. He took a bullet for you, risked his life more times than you can count. And what are you doing in return? Hunting pathetic game and picking berries hanging heavy off bushes.

You shake your head, forcing the thoughts away as you crouch near a patch of moss. There are tracks—faint, but there. Rabbits, maybe. Or something smaller. You run your fingers over the prints, noting their direction. They lead deeper into the forest.

The sun filters through the canopy above, casting long shadows across the forest floor. You keep your steps light, your ears straining for any sound of movement. A rustle in the bushes makes you freeze, your grip tightening on your weapon.

There—just ahead. A rabbit. It’s small, barely enough to feed one person, but it’s something.

You lower yourself into a crouch, holding your breath as you inch closer. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline sharpening your senses. You’re close enough now. Just a little further—

A snap of a twig under your foot.

The rabbit bolts, disappearing into the undergrowth.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, rising to your full height.

Frustration prickles at the edge of your nerves, but you force yourself to stay calm. This isn’t like the hunts you’ve seen on TV. There’s no waiting in a tree stand with a high-powered rifle. No camouflage, no bait. This is raw survival, and more often than not, you walk away empty-handed.

But you can’t go back empty-handed. Not today.

Determined, you keep moving, weaving through the trees with renewed focus. You’ve lost track of time, your eyes scan for more tracks, more signs of life. And then you hear it: the soft, melodic trickle of a stream.

A water source. Not just for you, but the animals. You move toward the sound, careful with your steps, until the trees part to reveal a small clearing. The stream cuts through the earth like a silver ribbon, its water sparkling in the late afternoon light.

And there it is. A deer. It’s young—small, but it’s enough. Enough to feed the group, to keep Jay’s strength up. Enough to make this trip worth it.

It stands on the other side of the stream. Its oblivious as it dips its head to drink from the cool water. The sight is almost magical, like a scene pulled from a world that doesn’t exist anymore.

For a moment, you just watch. You can’t help it. The way the deer moves, the way the light plays on its fur—it feels like something out of a movie. You’re struck by how much has changed, how far removed the world has become from anything remotely beautiful. And yet here it is: beauty, in its purest, most natural form.

But reality quickly pulls you back. This isn’t a movie, and you’re not here to admire the scenery.

You crouch slowly, your movements calculated and silent. You reach for the bow slung over your shoulder, your fingers steady as you pull it into position. The string hums softly as you notch an arrow, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the forest. You take aim, your breath slow and controlled, the deer still unaware of your presence.

The release is smooth, and the arrow flies true. A soft thud follows as the arrow finds its mark. The deer stumbles, collapsing to the ground with barely a sound. Relief washes over you, but it’s tempered by a twinge of guilt. It’s fleeting, though.

You move quickly, crossing the stream and kneeling beside the deer. Your hands are steady as you check its pulse, ensuring it passed without much suffering. You offer a silent thanks—not to a god, but to the animal itself—for what it’s giving you, for what it’ll mean to the others.

You do your best to drain the blood and skin the deer by the stream. It’s messy, your hands slick and trembling from the sheer mass of it, and the finished product is far from professional. But who’s complaining about fresh venison meat in the middle of an apocalypse?

When you return to the camp, the pleased expressions on their faces ignite a spark of accomplishment in your chest.

“Holy shit, you actually did it,” Sunoo breathes, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief as he stares at the game you’ve brought back.

Jake wastes no time updating you. “Jay’s been going in and out of consciousness. He’s desperate for something—anything—other than beans.”

You glance at Jungwon, half-expecting some critique or lecture about risks. But he doesn’t say a word. Instead, you catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. Enough to know he’s grateful.

The rest of the group gets to work immediately, dividing the meat. Half of it is chopped into small cubes and added to the bubbling concoction of beans and ramen soup seasoning. The other half is sliced into smaller pieces, skewered onto sticks, and slowly roasted over the flames.

The waiting process is brutal.

The fire crackles, filling the silence as everyone stares at the cooking meat with unwavering focus, as if sheer willpower could make it cook faster. The air is thick with the scent of roasting venison, and stomachs rumble audibly, a cruel reminder of how long it’s been since anyone had a real meal.

Finally, Heeseung gives the go-ahead, and no one hesitates. They dig in with abandon, the first taste of fresh meat in what feels like forever sending a ripple of relief through the group.

Jake carefully scoops some of the broth into a makeshift bowl carved from wood and brings it to Jay in the van. When you catch Jay’s gaze, the look in his eyes says it all.

He’s grateful—not just for the food, but for the fact that you didn’t take off running into the woods.

The next morning—or afternoon, rather—everyone except Jungwon sleeps in, a luxury that feels foreign in this world. You never thought you’d use the phrase “overate” in the middle of an apocalypse, but that’s exactly what happened. With no way to preserve the meat, everyone unanimously agreed to finish it off while it was still good.

Jungwon looks noticeably better—calmer, more grounded—compared to the tense, hollow version of himself from the day before. By the time the camp starts packing up, he’s fully back in his role, directing the group with quiet authority.

Before long, you’re all on the move again, resuming the trip to the rest stop. The exhaustion lingers, but for now, this is a win. And in this world, wins like these are few and far between.

The sun dips low on the horizon by the time you arrive at the bus terminal leading out of the city, signalling that the rest stop is not far now—about another thirty minutes' drive. That is if you can get past the bus terminal without any hiccups.

The terminal looms like a forgotten monument—its once-bustling gates now a graveyard of cars, all frozen in time from when people tried to flee the city. Some doors hang ajar, others sealed shut. Windows cracked, tyres deflated, their drivers long gone—or worse, still inside.

The terminal is a bottleneck, leading into a wide expanse of roads out of Seoul. But it’s a choke point, too—a trap. You know that every car out there is a potential coffin, and every shadow could be hiding something worse. The dead don’t move until they hear or smell something alive. Something warm. Something vulnerable.

Like a van carrying eight passengers. One of which is bleeding out of a hole in his body.

The scent of Jay’s blood is thick in the confined space, metallic and unforgiving. It clings to your skin, your clothes, your thoughts. You glance back at him. He’s still pale, still barely holding on, Jake pressing a bloodied cloth against his side to stem the bleeding. But it won’t be enough. Not if you don’t keep moving.

“The last time I was here, I went on foot,” you murmur quietly to nobody in particular—maybe someone in particular but you try not to make it obvious. Your voice feels too loud in the tense silence. “Even then, it was risky. There are too many cars, too many places for them to hide.”

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is fixed ahead, his grip on the rifle tightening with every passing second. “We don’t have that option now.”

No. You don’t.

“Why does this feel so eerie?” Sunoo’s voice breaks the silence, his usual sarcasm stripped down to unease. He leans forward from the back seat, resting his arms on the centre console. His eyes dart around the scene outside, scanning the cars and the deserted terminal. “Like we’re being watched.”

You don’t respond, but you feel it too—that creeping sense that you’ve just walked into something far more dangerous than you anticipated.

“Ni-ki, switch off the headlights,” Jungwon orders quietly. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an edge to it. A tension that pulls tighter with each passing second.

Ni-ki reaches for the switch, cutting the lights. Darkness swallows the road ahead, the only illumination now coming from the fading light of the setting sun. He carefully guides the van up the curb, circling around the edges of the terminal as quietly as possible.

You crane your neck, glancing out the window. Bodies sit slumped in the front seats of cars, their heads tilted at unnatural angles. Their hands still grip steering wheels, as though they never made it out of the city. Some are fully decayed, little more than skeletal remains in tattered clothes. Others… others look almost whole.

Your stomach churns. You’ve seen enough to know the difference.

The van bumps gently as it rolls over debris—discarded suitcases, backpacks, remnants of lives left behind. You catch sight of a baby seat in the back of one of the cars, a blanket still draped over it.

Don’t look too closely.

Don’t think about it.

“There,” Jungwon whispers, pointing to a narrow gap between two cars ahead. It’s barely wide enough for the van to squeeze through. “Go slow. Keep the engine quiet.”

Ni-ki nods, his hands steady on the wheel as he manoeuvres the van through the gap. The tyres crunch softly over gravel and shattered glass.

“Do you think they’re dead?” Sunoo whispers, his voice low and tense. You glance at him. His gaze is locked on a car to your right—a man slumped against the window, his face pressed to the glass. His eyes are closed, his mouth slack. He looks dead. But you’ve seen them wake before.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But we shouldn’t stay to find out.”

Jungwon presses his hand against the dashboard, leaning forward to get a better look at the road ahead. His knuckles are white, his expression unreadable. “Keep moving. Slowly.”

The van inches forward, navigating the maze of cars and debris. You press your hand against the door, your fingers twitching near the knife strapped to your leg. Every instinct in your body screams to stay alert, to be ready for anything.

But nothing happens. The van makes it through the terminal without incident. No sudden lurches of movement from the cars, no decayed hands clawing at the windows. Just silence. You exhale slowly, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly.

Maybe the dead aren’t here after all.

Ni-ki steers the van onto the open road beyond the terminal, the cracked asphalt stretching endlessly ahead. The trees lining the road sway gently in the breeze, their rustling leaves the only sound aside from the low hum of the engine.

“We made it,” Ni-ki breathes out, leaning back in his seat with a relieved sigh. “Thank fuck.”

Even Jungwon’s shoulders relax, his grip on the rifle loosening just a fraction.

But the moment is fleeting.

A wet, rattling cough echoes from the back of the van and everyone’s heads snap toward the sound.

Jay.

He’s laying flat on the carpet, his face pale and slick with sweat. His hand, trembling slightly, presses against his wounded side. But it’s the blood staining his lips that catches your attention—the dark red smear he tries to wipe away before anyone can see.

“Jay?” Jake is the first to move, scrambling to his side. “Hey, look at me.”

Jay coughs again, harder this time, his whole body shaking with the effort. Blood spatters onto his shirt, onto Jake’s hands as he tries to steady him.

“Pull over!” Jake snaps, his voice urgent. “Now!”

Ni-ki doesn’t hesitate, swerving the van to the side of the road and bringing it to a screeching halt. The tyres crunch against the gravel, and the van shudders as it comes to a stop.

Jake lifts the cloth that’s been pressing onto the wound, checking with practised hands. His fingers come away slick with fresh blood. Too much blood.

Your eyes dart to the wound, taking in the angry, swollen edges and the telltale patches of red creeping outward, spidering across his skin. You don’t have to be a doctor to recognise the symptoms of blood poisoning.

“Fuck,” Jake mutters under his breath, grabbing a clean cloth from the med kit. He presses it against Jay’s side, applying pressure. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Jay lets out a weak laugh, his voice strained. “Yeah… figured.”

“Don’t joke about this,” Jake snaps, his usual calm demeanour cracking under the weight of the situation. “You should’ve told me the moment it got worse.”

Jay doesn’t respond. He just leans back against the carpet, his chest heaving with laboured breaths. His gaze flickers to you for a brief moment before closing again, like he’s too exhausted to hold it.

Jungwon is out of the van in seconds, sliding open the side door with a sharp tug. His movements are sharp, precise, but there’s an edge to them—a barely concealed frustration that you can practically feel radiating off him.

His footsteps crunch against the gravel as he paces in front of the vehicle, his hands resting on his hips, fingers digging into his sides. His shoulders are tense, rising and falling with each heavy breath, and his jaw clenches and unclenches in a steady rhythm. You can see it clearly: his mind spiralling through every possible scenario, none of them ending well.

And if you know Jungwon the way you think you do, he’s probably blaming himself. Blaming himself for stopping yesterday. Telling himself that if he hadn’t broken down, if he hadn’t let himself falter for even a moment, they’d have reached the rest stop by now. They’d be safer, better prepared, instead of stuck here with too many variables and not enough solutions.

It’s a vicious cycle. And no matter how many times you tell him it’s not his fault, you know he’ll never believe it.

Because that’s who Jungwon is. The leader who carries the weight of everyone’s survival. The one who always blames himself when things go wrong.

But it’s something you all should’ve seen coming. Considering the conditions and the crude materials Jake had to work with just to stem the bleeding, infection was always a risk—one you all silently hoped wouldn’t happen. But now, staring at the unmistakable signs spreading across his skin, you realise there’s no more denying it.

It also means his countdown has started. Time is slipping away, and with every passing minute, his chances of survival grow thinner.

“What do we do?” Sunoo asks quietly from inside the van. His usual sarcasm is gone, replaced by a cautious uncertainty that makes your chest tighten.

Jake doesn’t lift his head from where he’s crouched beside Jay, his hands pressing down on the makeshift bandage to stem the bleeding. “We need to stop the bleeding,” he says firmly. “But he needs rest. Proper rest.”

“There’s nowhere safe,” Jungwon mutters, still pacing, his eyes darting to the road and back again. “Not out here.”

You watch him carefully, noting the way he keeps flexing his fingers, like he’s trying to ground himself. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he stops abruptly and turns to you. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the cracks of his usual calm exterior.

He’s looking to you for help.

It catches you off guard—this boy, who always seems to have the answers, who leads with quiet confidence and keeps the group together through sheer willpower. And now he’s standing there, staring at you like he’s out of ideas, like he needs you to have the solution he doesn’t.

Your gaze flickers to Jay. His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. His skin is deathly pale, and sweat beads along his hairline. He’s slipping, and fast.

Your thoughts flash back to the moment he jumped in front of you, taking the bullet that should’ve been yours. The memory hits you like a punch to the gut. Hell, you don’t even know how you’d handle it if he died because of you.

Your mind races, turning over every possibility, every bit of knowledge you’ve gathered from surviving on your own. And then your eyes land on the bus terminal in the distance.

“Jake, what do you need?” you speak up, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind.

Jake blinks, startled. “What?”

“What do you need to keep him alive?” you press. “Just name it. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”

Jake’s brow furrows in thought, his hands still working on Jay’s bandages. “Well, it doesn’t look like it hit any major organs. That’s the only good news. The bullet is still inside, and I can’t wedge it out now without any equipment or at least antiseptic, it’ll only worsen the infection. He’s also lost way too much blood and is starting to burn up. If we don’t get antibiotics into him and stabilise his blood pressure, he’ll go into septic shock.”

“Jake, layman terms, please.” Sunghoon says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated.

Jake sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Basically, if we don’t find the medicine and supplies he needs soon, he’ll die.”

The words hang there, unspoken fears suddenly given form. Silence falls over the group like a heavy blanket, pressing down on all of you harder than ever. The only sounds are Jay’s laboured breaths and the distant rustle of wind through the abandoned cars. You glance around at the others—Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, and Sunoo—all of them wearing the same haunted expressions.

“There’s a drug store at the terminal,” you say, your voice breaking the silence. Everyone turns to you, hope flickering in their eyes, fragile but present. “If we can get behind the counters where they keep the prescription meds, we might find antibiotics. Maybe corticosteroids, TXA—whatever Jay needs.”

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens, locking onto you with unwavering focus. “You’ve been there?”

You nod, brushing stray hair from your face. “I passed through. There were supplies. But the locked room at the back? I couldn’t get in without making a lot of noise. I doubt anyone else would’ve been desperate enough to risk it, so there’s a good chance the medicine is still there.”

Jungwon straightens, adjusting the strap of his rifle across his chest. The cracks you saw earlier—the uncertainty, the fear—are gone, buried beneath that steely mask of determination he always wears when the group needs him most.

“We don’t have a choice,” says Jungwon, his tone resolute. “We’ll go. We’ll find what we need.”

“We?” Sunoo’s sceptical voice cuts through the tense air, his eyebrow arching. “Who’s we?”

“Me and Y/N,” Jungwon replies without hesitation. “The rest of you stay here with Jay.” His words leave no room for debate, but Ni-ki shifts uncomfortably, clearly wanting to protest. The severity in Jungwon’s voice, however, stops him in his tracks.

Jake speaks next, his eyes darting between you and Jungwon before ultimately fixing on you. “You can recognise the medicine, right? Make sure you get the antibiotics. Hard, strong ones. If we don’t hit him with the right stuff, it won’t make a difference.”

Jake exhales deeply, but his jaw remains tight. “I would offer to go myself, but if anything happens to him while I’m gone…” He trails off, glancing at Jay, who looks pale and lifeless where he lies.

“I know what to look for,” you assure him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll grab everything we can. You just focus on keeping him alive until we get back.”

“In the meantime,” you add, turning to the others, “two of you should head to the rest stop on foot. Scout the area for any signs of trouble. But be careful. If I’m wrong and The Future is still there, at least we won’t be driving straight into their crosshairs.”

Jungwon’s eyes linger on you again, something flickering behind his expression. It’s not just relief—it’s trust. He trusts you. Despite everything that’s happened, despite how little time you’ve spent with the group, he’s relying on you now.

“Yeah, that would be smart,” Heeseung says, stepping forward. “Sunoo and I can handle it. Ni-ki, Sunghoon and Jake should stay here and keep watch.”

“If we’re not back before you two, just leave without us. We’ll meet you halfway.” Heeseung adds, his voice even.

“And if we’re not back before you two, and the rest stop is safe, leave without us,” Jungwon says, his words carrying a weight that, unlike Heeseung, seems to hang in the air. His eyes lift to meet yours for a fleeting second—a silent understanding passing between you. “We’ll catch up.”

You give him a firm nod, mirroring his determination. Neither of you says it aloud, but the message is clear.

Failure isn’t an option.

“Let’s move,” Jungwon says, gripping his rifle tighter.

You and Jungwon move in silence, weaving between abandoned cars and twisted metal barricades. The stench of rot hangs in the air, thick and cloying, as if the dead themselves are watching, waiting for the right moment to lurch forward.

“Stay low,” Jungwon whispers, his voice barely audible over the crunch of gravel beneath your boots.

You nod, gripping your knife tightly as you press yourself against the side of a rusted bus. The terminal doors are just ahead, glass cracked but still intact. You glance at Jungwon, who gestures for you to move forward, his rifle at the ready.

The two of you approach cautiously, your steps light, deliberate. You catch a glimpse of movement inside—a lone zombie shuffling aimlessly near the entrance. Its clothes are tattered, blood smeared across its face, and its eyes… lifeless, yet all too aware of any sound that might bring it to life.

“I’ve got it,” you mouth, stepping forward. One quick jab to the temple and the zombie crumples to the floor, lifeless once more.

Jungwon nods approvingly, motioning for you to follow him inside. The terminal is eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. Dust clings to every surface, softening the outlines of benches and kiosks that haven’t been touched in what seems like forever. Abandoned bags and scattered belongings lie across the floor like forgotten memories, each one telling a story you’ll never know.

Your eyes settle on a battered duffle bag near the entrance. The fabric is torn in places, and the faded logo suggests it once belonged to someone travelling light, someone who never made it to their destination. You crouch down, brushing off the dust before carefully tipping out its contents—clothes, a water bottle, a crumpled photograph. The remnants of a life reduced to debris.

You shake the bag to make sure it’s empty, then stretch it open to inspect the inside. It’s worn but sturdy. This should be big enough to store the medicine you need.

You make your way toward the drugstore tucked in the corner of the terminal. The moonlight reflects faintly off the sign above it, and the sliding doors are stuck a quarter-open, jammed by an overturned display rack.

Inside, shelves are mostly bare, but you search diligently. Bandages, aspirin, paracetamol—all over-the-counter stuff. Useful, but not what you need.

“Jake said we need antibiotics,” Jungwon reminds you, scanning the shelves. “Strong ones.”

“I know.” You crouch down, rifling through the lower shelves, frustration growing with each passing second. “But they’re not here. They’re probably locked in the backroom.”

Jungwon’s gaze shifts toward the heavy door at the back of the store. It’s secured with a sturdy lock, the kind that won’t budge without serious force.

You try the handle out of instinct, even though you already know it’s pointless. Yet, there’s that stubborn flicker of hope gnawing at you, the same irrational hope that’s kept you going this far. Who knows? Maybe some other stragglers came through, just as desperate as you to save a life, and managed to open it. But alas, it’s locked tight.

“Of course it is,” you mutter, brushing dust off your hands.

“We could try prying it open,” Jungwon suggests, but you both know it’ll take too long—and make too much noise.

“The longer we’re here, the more we’ll draw them in,” you say, casting a wary glance toward the entrance. You’ve already seen a few zombies shuffle past the glass doors, their hollow eyes scanning the streets for movement. They’re not inside yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Jungwon steps closer to the door, inspecting the lock with a critical eye. His fingers tighten around the rifle slung across his chest.

“I could shoot it,” he offers, his tone calm, measured. “One shot to take the lock out. We grab what we need and get out.”

You hesitate, weighing the risks. The sound will draw them in, no question. But how long would it take to pry the door open? Too long. Far too long.

Jungwon sees the conflict in your eyes and steps into your line of sight, forcing you to look at him. “We don’t have time to think this through,” he says softly. “Jay doesn’t have time.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jay—lying back at the van, clinging to life.

Time is not on your side.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Do it.”

Jungwon raises his rifle, aiming directly at the lock. His hands are steady, his breathing controlled. “On my signal, we run in, grab everything we can, and get out. Don’t stop. Don’t second-guess. Just grab and go.”

“Understood.”

You brace yourself as he pulls the trigger. The shot echoes through the terminal, deafening in the stillness. The lock shatters, pieces of metal scattering across the floor. The backroom door swings open, revealing shelves packed with boxes of prescription medication.

But the noise has done its job.

From outside, you hear them—the unmistakable groans of the dead, drawn to the sound like moths to a flame.

“They’re coming,” you whisper.

Jungwon glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “Move. Now.”

You bolt inside, heart pounding as you grab boxes at random—anything that looks remotely useful. Antibiotics. Painkillers. Anti-inflammatory meds. You shove them into the duffle bag with shaking hands, your mind racing.

Behind you, Jungwon is doing the same, his movements quick and efficient. But you can hear the groans getting louder, the shuffling of feet growing closer.

“They’re inside,” Jungwon warns, his voice tight with urgency.

You glance toward the entrance of the store. Shadows flicker across the broken glass as the first zombie pushes its way inside, its dead eyes locking onto you.

“We need to go,” you say, slinging the duffle bag over your head, the straps digging into your shoulders. Your voice is steady, but your pulse thunders in your ears. You can’t stay here any longer. The scent of blood and decay is thick in the air, and every second you linger feels like borrowed time.

Jungwon nods without a word, grabbing one last box before turning toward the door. The corridor is filled with the low, guttural moans of the undead, their decayed bodies pressing forward in a relentless wave. They trip over each other, stumbling through the narrow store entrance, their milky eyes locked on the two of you.

Another shot rings out as Jungwon takes down a zombie clawing its way through the entrance. The recoil barely seems to faze him, but you notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands tighten around the rifle. He’s running out of bullets, and both of you know it.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, glancing back at the growing horde. “We’re trapped.”

Your eyes dart around the store, searching desperately for another way out. There’s no back exit. The front is swarming with rotters. But then—your gaze catches on something above. A hatch in the ceiling, barely noticeable through the dim lighting.

“There!” you shout, pointing.

Jungwon follows your line of sight, spotting the hatch. Without a word, he slings the rifle over his shoulder and moves toward it. “I’ll boost you up,” he says quickly, lacing his fingers together to form a step.

“No,” you say, shaking your head as you glance back at the corridor. More zombies are pushing through, their groans growing louder, more desperate. “You go first. I’m lighter. It'll be easier for you to pull me up.”

Jungwon looks at you, torn. His jaw clenches, his eyes flicking between you and the hatch. “We don’t have time to argue—”

“Exactly!” you snap, your voice cutting through the rising noise. “There’s no time. Quick—go!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His expression is hard, conflicted. But then he nods sharply, understanding that there’s no time for stubbornness.

You crouch low, lacing your fingers together. “Come on.”

He steps into your hands and you push up with everything you have, muscles straining. Behind you, the guttural moans of the undead grow louder—closer. You don’t dare look back.

The shelf creaks under the added weight as Jungwon scrambles up, grabbing the edge of the hatch and hauling himself through with a grunt.

The second he vanishes through the opening, his arm shoots back down. “Grab on!”

You don’t hesitate. Throwing the duffle bag behind you, you jump, gripping his wrist tightly as he pulls you up. The muscles in his arm flex with the strain, his face set in determination. But just as you reach the edge of the crawlspace, a hand shoots up.

The rotted hand grabs your ankle, its grip like a vice, fingers digging into your skin. You let out a startled gasp, kicking instinctively, but the zombie holds on tight, pulling with surprising strength.

“No—shit!” you hiss, panic lacing your voice as you scramble to free yourself. The jagged wood around the hole splinters under your weight, cracking with each tug of the zombie’s hand.

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s expression shifting from urgency to pure panic in an instant.

Your body jerks violently, your chest slamming against the rough edges of the hatch. Pain blossoms through your ribs, but you barely register it over the sheer terror coursing through you. You kick wildly, your free leg connecting with something solid—bone, maybe—but it’s not enough to break its grip.

“I’ve got you,” Jungwon says through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pulls you back. His eyes burn with determination, his muscles straining as he fights to keep you from being dragged into the swarm below.

“Fuck, fuck—” Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. You twist your body, trying to free your leg, but the zombie’s fingers are locked around your ankle like steel clamps.

More hands start clawing up, fingers reaching, desperate to grab hold of anything living.

Jungwon shifts, bracing his feet against the frame of the hatch for leverage. “Hold on! Don’t let go.”

“I’m trying!” you snap, panic making your voice sharper than intended. But your hands are sweating, your grip slipping, your strength waning. Faster now that the duffle bag is weighing you down.

You feel the zombie’s filthy nails scrape against your skin, digging in deep enough to draw blood. The rancid smell of decay wafts up from below, making your stomach churn.

Then you hear it—the unmistakable growl of another one joining the frenzy. They’re piling up, climbing over each other to get to you.

“Jungwon!” you gasp, desperation clawing at your throat. “They’re going to—”

He doesn’t let you finish. In one swift move, he lets go of one hand holding onto you and reaches for his rifle, swinging it around with practiced precision. He doesn’t hesitate. He aims down through the gap and fires.

The zombie’s head jerks back, a sickening crack echoing through the crawlspace as the bullet finds its mark. The grip on your ankle loosens, and with a final desperate kick, you free yourself.

Jungwon grabs your arm again, hauling you up with a grunt. You collapse onto the platform beside him, gasping for breath, your chest heaving.

“Are you hurt?” Jungwon’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge of urgency to it. His eyes scan you quickly, looking for any signs of a bite.

“I’m fine,” you manage, still catching your breath. “It didn’t get me.”

He nods, stepping closer to you, his hand hovering near your shoulder. “You sure?”

You nod, though your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest. “Yeah… yeah.”

But you both know it’s a lie. You’re not okay. Neither of you is. You can still feel the ghost of that grip around your ankle, the way it clung to you like death itself. You meet his gaze, and for a moment, you see the concern etched into his features—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips press into a thin line. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“We need to go,” Jungwon says, his voice softer now but still firm. He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a second too long before he pulls back.

You nod again, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You could’ve died. But even worse—if you hadn’t insisted Jungwon go first, he could have—no, there’s no “could’ve” about it. He would have died. You wouldn’t have had the strength to pull him up if the roles were reversed.

It’s always like this, isn’t it? The small choices. The split-second decisions that separate life from death. The apocalypse doesn’t give you time to reconsider, to take back your mistakes. If it had played out differently, if Jungwon hadn’t made it out of that hatch… you don’t think you’ll ever be able to face them again. Then, Jay would die. And The others wouldn’t survive much longer either.

The thought churns in your stomach, twisting like a knife. You force it down. There’s no room for regret. No time for fear. You’re still here. You’re not dead. Not yet. And you’ll make damn sure it stays that way.

“Y/N.” Jungwon’s voice pulls you from your spiralling thoughts. He’s a few paces ahead, glancing over his shoulder, his expression grim and serious. There’s a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there before, something raw and unspoken.

“Stay close. Please.”

His voice is quieter on that last word—almost a plea. It startles you more than anything else that’s happened so far.

You nod. “Got it.”

He peers over the edge of the roof, scanning the ground below for anything that can cushion your descent. His movements are quick, efficient, but you can see the weight he carries pressing down on his shoulders. He’s not just leading you right now; he’s holding everything together—the group, the plan, your survival—but more so himself.

“There.” Jungwon points to a vending machine tipped against the side of the terminal building. Its display glass is shattered, shards glinting in the fading light, and the machine itself is battered and empty. Still, it looks sturdy enough.

“We can use that to climb down.” says Jungwon.

He takes the lead without hesitation, lowering himself carefully over the edge and testing the machine’s stability before finding a footing on top of it.

Once he’s sure it can hold both your weight, he glances up at you and stretches out a hand.

“Come on.”

You hesitate for half a second. Not because you’re scared, but because something about the sight of him—standing there with his hand outstretched, waiting for you—makes your chest tighten. He doesn’t have to do that. He doesn’t have to look back for you. But he always does.

You slowly ease into him. His grip around your waist is firm, steady as he lands you gently beside him on the machine. And for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that everything will be fine.

However, the moment your feet touches the ground, the sound of distant groans reaches your ears. It’s faint, but growing louder.

Jungwon’s fingers slip into yours without warning, his grip firm but not crushing. It’s instinctive—there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing, as though the simple act of interlocking his hand with yours is the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t pull away.

His palm is calloused, but his touch is grounding, like a tether keeping you from spiralling into the chaos around you. The warmth of his hand seeps into your skin, anchoring you to this moment.

The world around you feels like a blur—half-destroyed buildings and rusting cars blending together in the fading light. The distant groans of the undead echo from somewhere behind you, a haunting reminder that danger is never far. But Jungwon’s focus never wavers. His steps are quick but deliberate, each one calculated.

It’s like he knows exactly where to go.

The path ahead seems impossible to see—fog, shadow and debris blocking your view—but Jungwon moves with certainty, his eyes scanning the terrain with a sharpness that only someone used to surviving in this world could possess.

“Watch your step,” he says softly, guiding you around a cluster of jagged rocks and broken glass. His hand tightens slightly around yours as you stumble over a crack in the pavement. His fingers squeeze gently, a silent reassurance.

You glance at him, and for a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something rare—something softer beneath the hardened exterior he wears so well. His brows are drawn together in concentration, but his lips press into a line that seems more anxious than confident.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” you ask, your voice hushed.

“We just need to make it past the gate, can’t be that hard,” Jungwon says, his voice steady and composed, but the lack of conviction in his tone is deafening. He doesn’t look back as he speaks, his pace quickening as if he’s trying to outrun the weight of his own words.

It makes your chest ache. Even when he’s unsure, he keeps the facade up—for you, for everyone. To keep you hoping. To give you something to cling to, no matter how thin it might be. But Jungwon knows better than to hold you to meaningless reassurances. He knows you don’t believe it, not really. Yet he says it anyway, maybe out of habit. Maybe because it’s all he knows how to do.

You wonder if he’s afraid. Surely, he must be. Only you’re not sure if that fear is directed towards the dead.

Before you can think too much, Jungwon halts abruptly, the sudden stop jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts. His hand clamps around your wrist as he pulls you forward, weaving through the maze of rusted and abandoned cars, his grip firm, unrelenting. His movements are sharper now, deliberate, and it doesn’t take much to realise he’s actually running from something.

You want to turn back, to see what it is that’s chasing you, but Jungwon doesn’t give you the chance. His arm loops around your waist, and before you know it, he’s hoisting you onto the back of a battered lorry that looks like it’s barely holding itself together. You don’t have time to ask what’s going on before he’s climbing up after you, throwing a filthy, moth-eaten tarp over the both of you, cocooning you in darkness.

“What—” The question barely escapes your lips before his hand presses against your mouth, silencing you. His other arm braces over your body, shielding you.

Then you hear it.

A sound that chills you to your very core. Low, guttural groans, and the unmistakable shuffle of dozens—no, more than dozens—of dragging feet. The dead are close. Too close.

They’re moving past you, the tarp hiding you from their vacant stares, but the proximity makes your breath hitch in your throat. It’s not just one or two. The sound is overwhelming, the groans echoing all around you like a sinister symphony of death. You can feel the vibrations through the lorry’s frame, the weight of their movements too much to ignore.

But it’s not just the horde that sends a chill down your spine. It’s the direction they came from.

The van.

Your mind races, panic clawing at the edges of your thoughts. Did Heeseung and Sunoo make it back to the van? Did the dead catch onto Jay’s blood? Are they— No. You can’t think about that. You can’t let your mind spiral like this. Not now.

Jungwon’s hand shifts slightly, his grip loosening as he removes it from your mouth. You’re on the verge of falling apart, the weight of everything threatening to crush you. But then you feel it—a gentle squeeze around your waist. Reassuring, grounding.

You glance up, meeting Jungwon’s eyes in the dim light filtering through the tarp. His gaze locks onto yours, steady and calm despite the chaos around you. He’s saying something without words, speaking to you through his expression.

They’re okay. I know they are.

The words ring silently in your mind, a fragile lifeline in the sea of doubt. But even as you hold onto that unspoken promise, you know.

Even Jungwon can’t say for sure.

The tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on as the minutes crawl by at an excruciating pace. Every second drags painfully, your body tense and your breathing shallow, afraid that even the smallest sound will betray your presence. The groans of the undead echo just beyond the tarp, their shuffling feet and guttural rasps terrifyingly close.

You force yourself to take stock of your position, assess how easy it would be for you to get up and run if the situation permits. You’re lying on your side, pressed tightly against Jungwon. His body is turned towards you, his arm cradling your head while his other hand rests firmly on your waist.

You try to shift slightly, attempting to ease the weight off his arm. The last thing you want is to make this uncomfortable for him on top of everything else. But before you can move much further, Jungwon’s grip tightens. His hand presses gently but firmly against the back of your head, pulling you closer to his chest until your cheek is practically resting against his collarbone.

“Stop moving, will you?” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. The low timbre of his voice sends a chill down your spine, a contrast to the heat emitting from his body.

Your breath hitches, not just from the tension of the situation but from the unexpected intimacy of it. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, grounding you in a way that feels strange and unsettling. You nod slightly, a silent agreement to stay still, and Jungwon relaxes just a fraction, his hand still resting on the curve of your waist.

The world outside the tarp feels like it’s closing in, the groans of the dead growing louder before tapering off again as the horde slowly moves on. Each sound sets your nerves alight, your muscles tensing involuntarily as you wait for the inevitable moment when one of them will catch a whiff of life and turn back. But that moment doesn’t come. Not yet.

Beneath the tarp, the silence between you is thick, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged emotions. You can’t bring yourself to look up at him, but you feel the weight of his gaze, protective and steady even in this precarious situation.

You stay under the tarp for what feels like hours, though you’re not sure how much time has passed. The groans of the horde slowly grow more distant, but the occasional shuffle of feet or guttural rasp reminds you they’re still out there—stragglers lingering behind.

Jungwon hasn’t moved, his arm still lightly draped around your waist. His breathing is steady, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. He’s waiting, listening, calculating. You don’t dare to speak, your heart hammering against your ribs as you lie there in silence.

Eventually, the noise dwindles to nothing more than faint echoes. Jungwon tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he listens intently for any signs of danger. After what feels like an eternity, he lets out a quiet exhale and shifts slightly, lifting the edge of the tarp just enough to peer out.

“Come on,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, following his lead as he slides out from under the tarp and drops to the ground.

The air feels heavier now, thick with the stench of decay. The horde might have passed, but the stragglers are everywhere.

Jungwon motions for you to follow, his movements silent and deliberate. You mimic his steps, keeping low and hugging the shadows of the abandoned vehicles. The slightest misstep could draw their attention, and you’re hyper-aware of every rustle of fabric as you move.

As you near the edge of the terminal, your eyes dart frantically across the barren lot, scanning for any sign of the van, of Heeseung and Sunoo, of the others. The silence feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you search. But all you see is emptiness—the van is gone.

For a moment, dread begins to creep in, whispering that maybe—just maybe—they didn’t make it. And then it hits you.

The van is gone.

Thank fucking god.

Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours, snapping you out of your thoughts. He points towards the tyre tracks leading away from the terminal, faint but unmistakable in the dirt.

“They made it out, they’re alive,” Jungwon murmurs, his voice low but filled with conviction. His words aren’t just for you—they’re for himself too. A reassurance that the others are okay. That the plan worked.

Relief washes over you like a wave, but it’s quickly replaced by a new urgency. Your thoughts snap back to the weight of the bag on your shoulder, heavy with the precious medicines and supplies you risked everything to find.

“Jay’s medicine,” you say, your voice breaking the silence.

Jungwon nods, already stepping forward, his rifle at the ready as his eyes sweep the path ahead. There’s no time to waste. Not with Jay’s life hanging on a silver thread.

“Let’s go, it’s not far now.”

The walk to the rest stop is weighed down by silence. Every step feels heavier than the last, each one dragging you further into your own thoughts. There’s a thousand things you want to say—words that linger at the back of your throat, pressing against your chest—but you can’t seem to summon the courage to speak them out loud.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye, half-expecting to catch him doing the thing. The thing where he sneaks glances at you when he has something to say but is not sure how, only to avert his gaze nervously the moment your eyes meet. But this time, there’s none of that. His focus is locked ahead, his expression unreadable.

He has nothing to say to you.

The silence follows you like a shadow, lingering even as you catch sight of the van parked in the clearing. Relief flickers in your chest for a brief moment, but it’s quickly snuffed out when your gaze shifts to the towering barricade surrounding the rest stop.

It’s clearly the work of some powerful force. Military-grade equipment is woven through the defences, the barb wire circling the top of the enclosure glinting under the moonlight. Wooden spikes line the perimeter like jagged teeth, making it abundantly clear that this place was never meant to welcome anyone.

Which is weird because the last time you passed through this place in search for food, it was nothing more than an open rest stop. It’s not one of the sprawling ones you’d find further down the expressway, but it’s big enough. Big enough to refuel, grab a bite, and carry on your way.

Jungwon’s eyes narrow as he takes in the scene. His hand hovers near his rifle, fingers flexing restlessly. “Looks fortified,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Too fortified,” you mutter, your gaze following the stretch of barricades. The gas station and the attached convenience store sit within the enclosure like something out of a nightmare—a beacon of hope warped into something far more sinister.

The location is perfect. Open road for miles, no trees or buildings to block your view. If a horde approached, you’d see it long before it became a threat. Which begs the question...

Why the hell is it abandoned?

You approach the van slowly, your footsteps crunching softly against the gravel. With every step, your heart pounds louder in your chest. Half of you expects to see it empty, and when you peek inside, you find that you’re right.

“They must be inside,” you murmur, glancing towards the barricade.

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his tension in the way he grips his rifle tighter. He’s thinking what you are—if they’re inside, why is everything so quiet?

You both make your way to the gate. It’s slightly ajar, swaying just enough to make you think it’s been left that way deliberately. You hesitate before pushing it open, and the rusty metal gives a screech that cuts through the eerie silence. The sound makes you wince, setting your teeth on edge. But nothing stirs.

You step inside cautiously, your eyes sweeping the area. The gas station looms ahead, the broken windows glinting like jagged shards of glass. The convenience store sits just beyond it, the door perfectly intact which is more than what you can say for other places you’ve scavenged. Everything looks wrong—too clean, too still, too quiet.

Not a single living soul in sight.

You glance at Jungwon, who’s scanning the surroundings just as intently as you are. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. You know what he knows, even without him telling you. In this case, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

People like The Future don’t abandon their posts. Not without a damn good reason.

“No way they’d leave a set-up like this behind.” Jungwon whispers, the words barely audible

The door to the convenience store glides smoothly as you push it open, the stale air inside rushing out to meet you. The smell of dust and old wood fills your lungs as you step inside cautiously, your eyes darting around the room. It’s dark, but even with the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, you can see the shelves are completely gone.

In their place are makeshift beddings—sleeping bags spread out haphazardly, blankets thrown over crates to make impromptu mattresses. There are even personal belongings scattered around—boots lined neatly by a corner, a few scattered pieces of clothing draped over the back of chairs.

Your stomach knots. This wasn’t how the place looked the last time you were here.

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and that’s when you see them—a cluster of bags, familiar ones. Your breath catches in your throat as you step closer. You kneel down, running your hands over the straps, the worn fabric.

These aren’t just any bags. They belong to your group.

Heeseung’s patch-covered backpack. Jake’s med kit bag. Even Sunoo’s colourful duffle that Ni-ki has been begging him to cover with mud to conceal the colours.

Panic rises in your chest like a tidal wave. “No,” you whisper under your breath, shaking your head. “No, no, no…”

You scramble to your feet, stumbling towards the back of the store. “Heeseung? Sunoo? Jake?” Your voice echoes through the empty space, growing more frantic with each name. “Sunghoon? Ni-ki? Jay?”

Silence.

“Where are they?” you mutter, spinning around, eyes darting from one shadowed corner to the next. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Y/N.” Jungwon’s voice is firm, grounding. “We’ll find them.”

But you’re already moving, your gaze locking onto something near the far wall—a door. It’s subtle, blending almost perfectly into the wallpaper, but the peeling edges give it away. There’s no handle, just a faint outline of a frame.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach it cautiously. You glance at Jungwon, who gives a small nod, his rifle raised. With a deep breath, you press your hand to the door and push.

The door swings open easily, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. The room must be soundproof, because the moment the door opens, the noise rushes out—a mixture of hushed conversation and distant shuffling. The voices are familiar. Too familiar.

Your hand trembles as you push the door fully open, stepping inside.

The first thing you see is Jay.

He’s sitting upright right beside the door frame, leaning against the wall, his head resting back. His shirt is still stained with blood, but you can see his torso is wrapped up with fresh bandages. His eyes flutter open when he hears the door creak, and he turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Hey,” you whisper, crouching low to meet his eye, your voice cracking with emotion. “Are you okay?”

Jay gives you a weak smile, his lips twitching at the corners. He doesn’t speak but you can tell he’s happy to see you two alive.

Relief crashes over you, so overwhelming that your knees nearly give out beneath you. Before you can say anything else, Jungwon’s voice pulls your attention.

“Y/N,” he calls out, stepping into the room behind you. His voice holds a mix of awe and disbelief. “Look.”

You follow his gaze and finally take a good look around.

The shelves—the ones that had been removed from the front of the store—are all here. Lined neatly in rows, stacked with canned goods, MREs, bottles of water, medical supplies, ammos. Enough to last an entire year or more with careful rationing. More than you’ve ever seen in one place since the world ended.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, taking a slow step forward.

Jungwon lowers his rifle, his expression unreadable as he scans the room. “They’ve been stockpiling.”

Your fingers brush over a can of soup on one of the shelves. It’s pristine, untouched. Like it’s been waiting here just for you.

“Jungwon? Y/N?”

The voice comes from the back of the room, faint but unmistakable. Your head snaps around, your heart thumping in your chest. It’s too dim to make out his face at first, but the familiarity of that voice cuts through the haze of exhaustion like a knife.

“Jake,” Jungwon breathes, his steps quickening as he strides toward the figure emerging from the shadows.

Jake barely has time to react before Jungwon wraps him in a tight hug, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. “Fuck, man,” Jungwon mutters, his voice rough with relief. “I’m glad you lot are okay.”

Jake pats him on the back, his own relief evident in the way he sags slightly into the embrace. “We thought something happened,” he says, pulling away. His face is tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We heard the gunshot. Sunghoon and Ni-ki wanted to go after you, but then the horde started coming down on us.”

He pauses, glancing over at you. “We waited as long as we could, but Jay’s wound…” Jake’s voice trails off, his expression tightening. “We were afraid the dead would catch the scent of his blood.”

You barely process what he’s saying. Your mind is too busy counting heads, scanning the room for the others. They’re safe. They’re alive

“Yeah, we ran into a bit of trouble,” Jungwon says, glancing at you briefly before turning back to Jake. “But good news—we got the antibiotics you needed.” He pulls the bag from his shoulder and opens it, revealing boxes of prescription medicine that even The Future can’t get their hands on.

Jake’s eyes widen as he takes in the haul. “Shit. Damn. Don’t be disappointed, Jay. Looks like you’re living another day.” His grin is infectious, a flash of humour cutting through the tension. “That rhymes, by the way. And that too.”

Jay lets out a weak laugh from his spot on the floor. “Looks like you’re the one disappointed, Jake.”

The warmth of their banter spreads through the room, and for a brief moment, everything feels normal. The tension in your chest loosens slightly, but you know it won’t last. It feels fragile. Like a glass bubble that could shatter at any second.

“I already took the bullet out,” Jake says, pulling you from your thoughts. “Thanks to the supplies stockpiled here. And thank fuck this room’s soundproof, because he was screaming like a bloody baby.” Jake crushes a tablet into a cup of water and holds it out to Jay, who takes it with a grimace.

Your gaze drifts across the room. It’s genuinely surreal. “What is this place?” you murmur, still taking it all in.

Jake shrugs. “Heaven in hell, apparently.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “There’s a basement too. Stocked to the brim.”

The sound of footsteps draws your attention. From the shadows, Sunoo emerges, a flashlight in hand, its beam bouncing off the walls in jagged patterns. His grin is wide, lighting up his face in a way you’ve rarely seen since you’ve been with this group. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, his steps light, his voice carrying a note of relief that feels almost out of place in this grim, desolate world.

“Thank god you’re both okay!” he exclaims, rushing towards you and Jungwon, his feet barely touching the ground as he moves. The rest of them follow suit, trailing beind him.

“Have you seen this place? The supplies would last us for months! And that barricade outside—it’s miles better than the one we had before.” Sunoo exclaims.

That’s the thing. You have seen this place. And it wasn’t like this.

Your stomach twists as dread coils in your chest. Slowly, you shake your head. “Something’s not right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. “When I came here two months ago, it wasn’t like this. There were no barricades. No fortifications. It was just… a regular rest stop.”

Heeseung turns towards you with a frown. His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his face. “I could’ve sworn they marked this place on one of their maps back at base camp. Captain Hwang showed it to me when I got promoted in the security department.”

“Maybe it was a work-in-progress,” Jake suggests, his voice steady but thoughtful. “They could’ve started building it but hadn’t fully moved in when Y/N passed through.”

You can hear the curiosity in his voice, the way he’s already trying to rationalise what you’re saying. It’s how they survive—by making sense of things, by explaining away every lingering threat until it no longer feels like one.

“Maybe,” you admit reluctantly, though the unease gnawing at your gut doesn’t let up. ”But it’s clearly no longer a work-in-progress. Whoever built this will come back.”

Heeseung runs his finger along one of the shelves, lifting a thick layer of grime and holding it up for everyone to see. “No one’s been here in a while. Those sleeping bags outside? Covered in dust. Same with these shelves.”

Dust means time. Time means abandonment. But why? Why would anyone leave behind a place fortified this well, stocked with enough supplies to last a year? Which in apocalypse standard time, it might as well be a lifetime.

Your gut twists uncomfortably. “Like Jake said, this is heaven in hell. An oasis in the desert. It just doesn’t make sense, why would anyone leave all this behind? It’s not safe to stay here. We should grab whatever we can carry and keep moving.”

The moment those words leave your mouth however, a heavy silence falls over the room, heavy and suffocating. You glance around, catching the way their faces shift—how exhaustion weighs down their expressions, dulling the sharp edges of fear and worry. That’s when it hits you.

They’ve already made up their minds.

They’re tired. Tired of running. Tired of scraping by on borrowed time. Tired of surviving without truly living. And this place, with its sturdy barricades and stockpiled supplies, promises them something they haven’t had in a long time.

A home.

They see this place as a refuge. A chance to finally stop running. The desire to settle down, to stop looking over their shoulders, has taken root, pulling them in like a siren’s song. But it’s nothing but a lie—a lie that this world has dangled in front of you far too many times.

You turn to Jungwon, hoping—praying—that he’ll say something. That he’ll back you up. That he’ll remind them of what you all know deep down: nothing good ever comes easy in this world.

But when your eyes meet his, your heart sinks.

Because you see it in him too. That same exhaustion. That same longing for rest. The desire to finally stop running.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice amidst the rising panic in your chest. “Jungwon, you know we can’t stay,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like.

Jungwon looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. There’s a heaviness in his gaze, a weariness that mirrors your own. He knows you’re right. You can see it in the way his shoulders sag just slightly, in the way he presses his lips together like he’s trying to stop himself from agreeing.

Because places like this don’t just get abandoned without a reason. The apocalypse is full of these places, scattered across the country like cursed relics of a civilisation long gone. You’ve learned the hard way that anything that looks too good to be true usually is.

But before Jungwon can say anything, Ni-ki steps forward. His expression is calm, collected, his eyes calculating as they sweep across the room. “Whoever left these supplies behind will come back,” he says, his voice steady. “But when they do, they’ll find eight armed individuals. If we play our cards right, we could secure this place.”

Jake nods. “Jay isn’t fit to move. He needs rest if he’s going to fight off the infection. We’ve got medicine, sure, but if we keep running, he won’t stand a chance.”

“I’m with Ni-ki on this,” Sunoo adds. “This place is too good to give up. It gives us a fighting chance against whatever’s out there.”

Your frustration boils over before you can stop it. “And what makes you think whatever’s out there won’t find a way in here?” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. The room falls silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ni-ki’s glare cuts through the stillness like ice. His jaw tightens, his arms crossing over his chest. “You’re the one who led us here,” he says, his voice low and biting. “And now you want us to leave all this behind?”

The guilt hits you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. He’s right. You did lead them here. Just like you led them into every bit of danger that almost cost them their lives; the motel, the village, the bus terminal—and now, here. Every risk, every danger—it all ties back to you. And now they’re looking at you like you’ve betrayed them.

“I didn’t bring you here to settle,” you say quietly, the weight of your own words pressing down on your chest. “I brought you here to survive.”

Ni-ki doesn’t waver. His voice remains steady, calm. “We will survive. We can survive here. We don’t need to keep running.”

And that’s when you realise.

They’ve already stopped running.

Your chest tightens as Ni-ki’s words settle over the group like a final verdict. The exhaustion, the constant fear—it’s worn them down to the point where even the slightest hope of stability feels like salvation.

And who could blame them? You’ve all been running for so long, barely surviving. This place offers a lifeline, however fragile it may be.

But it doesn’t feel right.

It can’t be right.

Jungwon hasn’t spoken since you addressed him directly, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. You watch him carefully, hoping for that flicker of leadership you’ve come to depend on, the clarity he always brings in moments of uncertainty. But it’s not there. Instead, there’s a weariness that drags him down like chains around his ankles.

“You’re right,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It catches you off guard, making your heart skip a beat.

“We’ve been running for too long.”

Your stomach twists. No. He’s giving in.

“But—” he adds, glancing up to meet your gaze. “We’re not settling blindly. We don’t know why this place was abandoned, and we can’t afford to assume it’s safe. We secure it. We prepare for the worst.”

There’s a collective exhale from the group, the tension easing slightly. Ni-ki nods in agreement. “We fortify the barricade. Set up traps, expand our perimeter. If anyone comes back, they’ll regret it.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Jay. He’s stable for now, but he needs proper rest.” Jake says, wiping his hands on his jeans as he rises from where he was crouching beside Jay.

Sunoo chimes in next, his voice lighter than before. “I’ll start taking stock of the supplies. We need to ration carefully if we’re staying.”

Everyone seems to fall into place, tasks assigned and agreed upon with a silent understanding. But you remain still, your hands clenched at your sides, heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungwon.” You call his name softly, pulling him aside as the others begin to disperse.

He follows you out of the room without question, the two of you stepping into the cool night air outside the barricade. The wind carries the faint scent of petrol and dust, mingling with the metallic tang of lingering fear.

Jungwon’s gaze is locked on the barricade, his rifle hanging loosely in his grip. You watch him for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly. There’s exhaustion in the way he stands, a bone-deep weariness that makes your chest ache. And it’s more than just physical fatigue. You see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the void behind his eyes.

“You know this is a mistake,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “You know better than anyone that places like this don’t stay safe.”

Jungwon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know it’s a risk.”

“Then why are you letting them believe it’s safe?”

He looks at you for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Because they need it. We need it.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling over. “And what happens when whoever built this place comes back? When they’re more armed, more prepared than we are?”

“We’ll handle it,” he says firmly.

“Jungwon—”

“I can’t keep running.”

You blink, taken aback by the vulnerability in his tone. You’ve seen him tired, stressed, angry—but this is different. He’s crumbling under pressure.

“I can’t keep dragging them from place to place, always looking over my shoulder,” he continues, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Y/N. We all are. This might not be the perfect solution, but it’s what we have right now.”

The words settle between you like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. They’re heavy, filled with truths you know too well. But another weight—one you’ve been carrying since the village—presses down on you harder.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Your voice comes out quieter than you expect, almost swallowed by the night air. It’s not really a question. More of a statement.

Jungwon’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “I don’t.”

“You regret letting me come along,” you press, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I’ve done nothing but put you all through hell since you let me in.”

“Y/N—”

“No, listen.” You take a breath, forcing yourself to keep going. “Ni-ki doesn’t have to say it, but I know he thinks I’ve got no clue what I’m doing most of the time. And he’s right! Half the time, I’m winging it.”

“Y/N.”

“And you—” Your voice trembles as you continue. “You keep risking your life to protect me, and I don’t even know why. I should’ve just let that zombie bite me in the auto shop. I was supposed to go down with the city that day. Hell, I should’ve taken that bullet. I—”

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s voice cuts through your rambling like a knife, sharp and commanding. He steps closer, turning to face you fully. His eyes bore into yours, intense and unwavering.

It silences you instantly.

“Stop,” he says quietly, almost pleading. “Stop doing this to yourself.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Ni-ki’s just frustrated. He doesn’t think that about you. And you can’t put us through hell if we’re already living in it.” His voice softens further, exhaustion creeping into his words. “I don’t regret making the decision to keep you. Jay would never forgive himself if something happened to you. And I don’t hate you.”

There’s a pause, and then he adds, so quietly you almost miss it, “I hate myself. For letting the world get to me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. For a moment, you can’t think of anything to say. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable, this open. It’s both unsettling and grounding, and you feel the cracks in your own walls widening.

“No.” You shake your head slowly, your voice trembling. “You hate me for driving you this way. It’s not the world. The world doesn’t have anything on you.”

Jungwon tilts his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “And you think you have the power to influence me in ways the world can’t?”

You let out a shaky laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “No. But I think you look at me like I could be someone who can finally lift the burden of leadership off your shoulders. You trust my calls. You listen to my opinions. And what I said back at the field, about justice and revenge—you weren’t just listening. You were thinking.”

He doesn’t deny it. His gaze flickers, but he stays quiet, letting you speak.

“Thinking about how maybe I might have a point,” you continue. “Thinking about how you might have been approaching the world the wrong way. But that’s the thing—I don’t want you to think. To second-guess what you’ve always believed in just to weigh mine in.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you push on. “I don’t want you to change. You don’t owe me or the world anything. Fuck the world. To hell with it.”

Jungwon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re cute when you’re hating the world. As ironic as that is.”

The comment catches you off guard. Cute? Your brows furrow in confusion as your mind scrambles to process his words. How can he crack a joke right now?

But there’s something about the way he says it—the way his lips twitch into the faintest smile, the way his eyes soften just a little. He’s trying to lighten the moment, to ease the tension that hangs between you like a noose.

And it works. Sort of.

“I don’t want to hate the world,” you murmur, your gaze locking onto his. Your voice is softer now, raw. “After all, it has all of you in it.”

Jungwon’s expression shifts, his playful smirk fading into something more serious. His gaze lingers on you, studying your face like he’s searching for something he can’t quite name.

“It’s not just about what you said. If that’s what you’re wondering.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “I felt it—the blinding rage for justice… or revenge.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you turn to him fully, waiting for him to continue.

“When he had you in that chokehold,” he says, his jaw tightening at the memory, “my mind switched off. I wasn’t even thinking. All I knew was that I couldn’t let you die. I picked up that rifle and pulled the trigger without a second thought. And when Jay..."

His voice cracks, the name catching in his throat. He stops, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself before speaking again. “When Jay took that bullet for you, I lost it. I completely lost it. That’s when I started thinking about what you said.”

“And you’re right,” he continues, voice quieter now. “If either of you had died right there and then, I would’ve done worse than just give him a quick death.”

You blink rapidly, struggling to process his words. The sheer depth of his emotions is overwhelming, leaving your mind scrambling for a response.

What Jungwon is saying is valid. You know that deep down. You would’ve done things—unimaginable, unspeakable things—if Jay, Jungwon, or anyone else had died. You would’ve burned the world down, torn apart every last remnant of civilisation if it meant protecting them.

But that’s what makes this even harder to hear. Because it also means Jungwon truly, deeply cares for you. The same way you truly, deeply care for them.

And that wasn’t part of your plan.

Noticing your loss for words, Jungwon seizes the moment to press on, his tone quieter, more reflective. “And you’re also right… I don’t like the fact that their lives are practically in my hands. It’s suffocating.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “But when you came along… I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. You know how to make the hard calls, the split-second decisions that mean life or death. And all I’ve been doing is leading this group away from those problems. Trying to avoid them. Making decisions in their stead so they don’t have to. Hoping they’ll never have to face it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a good problem to have,” you shake your head, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Jungwon huffs out a dry laugh, one that barely passes for amusement. “No, it’s not.” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion evident in every movement.

“Jungwon,” you say softly, your voice careful. He doesn’t look at you immediately, so you step closer, catching his gaze. “You’re not sheltering them the way you think you are.”

That gets his attention. His brows furrow slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“These people aren’t following you because you’re their leader,” you continue, your tone gentle but firm. “They’re following you because you’re you. They trust you, even if it costs them everything.”

“And you’ve done a phenomenal job keeping them alive, better than most would” you add, your voice softening. Jungwon stays quiet, his gaze flicking to the ground, as if he’s trying to process your words. You can tell he’s not used to hearing this—compliments don’t seem like something he knows how to take.

He exhales sharply, a sound caught between frustration and exhaustion, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he’s been carrying has suddenly doubled.

“I never asked to lead,” he murmurs, the words heavy with quiet resentment.

“But that’s the thing about responsibility, isn’t it? You don’t get to pick and choose when it falls on you.” you say.

For a moment, he just stands there, his lips pressed into a thin line. You can see the conflict playing out in his expression—the part of him that wants to argue, to deny what you’re saying, because he doesn’t believe it himself. But there’s another part—a quieter, more vulnerable part—that knows you’re right. That knows he’s been carrying this burden far longer than anyone should have to.

“Jungwon,” you whisper, stepping closer. “This place… it feels wrong, and you know it. They trust you. If you tell them to leave, they’ll listen. They’ll pack up and—”

“This place,” he interrupts, his tone deliberate and resolute, cutting through your words like a blade. “It’s hope. Something that these people need now more than anything. And if they think it’s worth fighting for, it is.”

His voice carries the finality of someone who’s already made up his mind. You don’t miss the way his gaze hardens, the way his jaw tightens as he speaks. He doesn’t say it outright, but you can tell he’s not just talking about the others.

This place is hope for him too.

It’s all they have left now, after everything else has crumbled—their faith, their humanity, their belief in something better. And now that their previous hope of holding on to what made them human has shattered—by the likes of you—they’re desperate. Clinging to anything that might give their lives meaning.

And once hope takes root, there’s nothing you can do to convince him otherwise. Jungwon has already decided that this is where they’ll make their stand, no matter how dangerous it might be.

And if Jungwon isn’t leaving, none of them will.

They’ll stay. They’ll fight. And they’ll fall right into the trap of whoever left it here. And the worst part?

They’ll do it willingly.

For hope. For him.

You glance at Jungwon again, noticing the way his eyes drift toward the barricade behind you, scanning the treeline and the roads as if he’s mapping out every possible threat in his head. Even in a rare moment of rest, he’s on guard. Always looking out for them. Always protecting. Always leading.

And in this moment, a realisation settles heavily in your chest—you don’t actually know him the way you think you do.

Because unlike Jungwon, you’ve never had to carry the weight of leading people. You’ve never had to shoulder the responsibility of keeping them alive, day after day. You’ve never had to watch people you care about die because of decisions you made.

You wouldn’t even count the people back at the community building among the people you care about. Sure, you’d shared meals, traded supplies, and worked together to keep the place standing. But at the end of the day, that’s all it was—a band of survivors benefiting from each other’s abilities. A mutual arrangement, nothing more.

When it really comes down to it, you wouldn’t take a bullet for any of them. Not the way Jungwon would. Not the way you’ve seen him do—standing between danger and his people, no hesitation, no second-guessing.

And in that sense, you and Jungwon are different.

Where he sees people worth saving, you see liabilities. Where he sees hope, you see a death trap waiting to happen. Where he takes on the burden of leadership, you’ve kept your distance, never letting yourself get too close. Never letting yourself care too much.

You tell yourself it’s because caring makes you vulnerable. But deep down, you know it’s because you’re afraid—afraid of the weight Jungwon carries every day. Afraid you wouldn’t be able to bear it.

And you’d be right, because you see the toll it’s taken on him written all over his face. The haunted look in his eyes, the tension in his posture, the weariness in his voice. It’s all there. And it’s breaking him, piece by piece.

“I don’t want to see you lose yourself,” you say softly, your words hanging in the air between you.

Jungwon sighs, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. His voice lowers, as if speaking any louder would make him crumble. “I’m not losing myself. And I won’t let the group lose themselves either.” He pauses, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. “That’s why you’re here. You keep me grounded.”

You scoff quietly, shaking your head. “I’m not exactly the best moral compass.”

“You are for me,” he says simply.

The honesty in his words makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s raw. Unfiltered. And it terrifies you.

“I hope you’d stop looking at me like I could solve all your problems. I could never replace you. Even if you wanted me to,” you say, your voice wavering slightly before you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. You glance at Jungwon, searching his expression for any sign that he might push back, but he’s listening—silent, thoughtful, waiting.

“But what you can do,” you continue, softer this time, “is share the burden. Share it with the people who’ll gladly bear it with you. Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Ni-ki… they're not helpless, you know? And I know for one that they’ll follow you anywhere.”

His gaze shifts ever so slightly, something flickering in his eyes at the mention of their names. A hint of guilt, maybe. Or perhaps a deep-rooted fear that he’s failed them somehow, that he’s not enough.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes searching yours. And his next words hit harder than you’re prepared for.

“Will you?”

Your chest tightens, and for a second, you hesitate. But before you can stop yourself, the word slips out.

“Yeah.”

The lie falls from your lips so easily, it surprises even you.

Jungwon’s expression softens, relief flickering in his eyes. He nods once, quietly accepting your answer. But as soon as the word is out, regret crashes over you like a wave, cold and unrelenting. Because you know the truth.

You’re not going to stay.

You’re not going to help him carry that burden.

You’re going to run.

And Jungwon doesn’t know it yet, but when you leave—when you inevitably abandon them—he’ll have to pick up that burden all over again.

And somehow, you know that will hurt more than anything the world could throw at him.

part 3 - whispers | masterlist | part 5 - people

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notes from nat: happy lunar new year to all celebrating! this is actually the last part i have in drafts... meaning i have to race against time to get the next part written and ready by next week... don't hold me to that though. i'll try my best 🫡 and shoutout to @youcancometome for guessing the title of this part right!!!

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[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

"what use is a halo when it slips so easy?"

part III

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're falling deeper and deeper under Ben's spell, and he's feeling pretty smug about it.

Warnings: 18+!, Soldier Boy is a warning, language, corruption, religious reference, manipulation, innocence, drug use, smut (dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, handjob, corruption kink, praise kink), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 4,650

It was supposed to be a briefing.

Some new mission. Some Vought op. Butcher was going on about coordinates and black sites and asset retrieval like he wasn't just a twitch away from losing another man to friendly fire.

Ben didn't give a shit.

He was leaning back in his chair, legs spread, blunt between two fingers—fat, burning slow, sweet smoke curling up toward the ceiling like incense from some unholy altar.

He was barely listening.

Because you were in the room. Sitting across from him, quiet, hands folded in your lap, head tilted just slightly as you watched Butcher with that thoughtful little crease between your brows—like every word meant something. Like you were trying to understand, trying to be good.

And fuck, didn't that just make him ache.

You were still all soft lines and silence. Still sweet. Still innocent. But he knew now—he knew. You'd come in his lap like your body had never done it before.

Because it hadn't.

You'd glowed for him. Had moaned and gasped and trembled with your hands fisted in his shirt, eyes wide like the heavens were falling. You'd shaken, and then collapsed against him like he was the only thing left tethering you to the earth.

He hadn't touched himself. Hadn't even asked for more.

But God, he'd wanted to.

Especially later—when your hands had been on his chest, glowing, healing, soaking him in that light—and he'd been grinding up into you like a fucking animal, desperate to come, aching with it.

But he hadn't pushed. Not all the way. Because this? This slow unraveling? This was better. You didn't even realise he was pulling you down. Thought you were still holy. Still intact. And yeah, you were glowing on the outside, but your thighs had squeezed when he praised you. You'd gasped when he whispered what he wanted. You'd shuddered when he told you next time, you wouldn't come alone.

Ben brought the blunt to his lips, dragged in deep. Smoke curled out between his teeth as he looked at you again.

You were sitting so still. Listening so hard. Like you had something to prove. Like you thought being good meant being quiet and useful and pure.

He smirked. Because he knew now—he was already in you. Not just in your head. Not yet in your body. But in the cracks. In the part of you that ached and didn't know why. In the questions you'd start asking. In the flush you'd feel next time his voice dropped.

He could take you whenever he wanted.

But that wasn't the game. The game was watching you come to him. Wanting it. Needing it. Begging for it. He'd get you there. You were already halfway down.

The van pulled away in a cough of dust and engine growl, Butcher's voice still echoing from the radio long after it cut out.

Ben stood at the doorway, blunt between his fingers, eyes shaded under low brows as he watched the others disappear down the dirt road. Gone. Finally.

And that left just the two of you.

He exhaled smoke through his nose and stepped back inside.

The safehouse was quiet now. Still. Just the low hum of the old fridge and the tick of a shitty analog clock on the wall. Dust danced in the air where the light poured in from the blinds.

And you—you were sitting on the floor in front of the busted little TV like it was Saturday morning and none of this was real. Legs crossed. Shoulders relaxed. Fingernails slowly peeling the skin from an orange with careful precision. Like you didn't know he was still starving.

Ben moved. Slow. Deliberate. Circling the room like a wolf just released from the leash.

You didn't even look up. Didn't flinch. Just popped a slice of orange into your mouth, blinking at the flickering static on the screen like it was fascinating.

God, you were unreal.

All that purity. All that calm. Like the other night hadn't happened. Like you hadn't come apart in his lap, glowing, moaning, whimpering like it was the end of the world. Like you hadn't healed him after, touching him with those sweet little hands while his cock throbbed between your thighs.

Ben licked his bottom lip. Took another drag. And started circling closer.

"So," he said, voice low and loose, "you always eat oranges like that, or is it just around me?"

You blinked up at him. Confused. Innocent.

"Like what?"

Ben chuckled. Rounded behind you, smoke trailing in his wake.

"All slow and careful. Like you're peelin' fuckin' gold."

You tilted your head. "I just like the smell."

He huffed a soft laugh. Sat down on the couch behind you, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. Watching you.

"So that's it, huh?" He asked. "Everyone's out risking their asses, and we're stuck here like a coupla china dolls."

You nodded, another slice slipping between your lips. "They said I'm too valuable."

Ben raised a brow. "Yeah," he muttered. "They got that right."

You didn't catch the tone. Didn't see the way his eyes dropped to your thighs—soft and bare and pressed together as you sat cross-legged, oblivious to the way you made him ache.

He let the silence stretch. Then:

"You think about it?"

You glanced over your shoulder. "About what?"

He leaned back, lazy. Loose. Smirking.

"Other night."

You went still. Just for a second. Your fingers paused on the peel.

Ben grinned.

"'Cause I been thinkin' about it," he said. "You. In my lap. Soundin' like heaven forgot your fuckin' name."

Your face flushed instantly. Colour bloomed high on your cheeks, your glow flickering faintly behind your head. But you didn't answer. You just looked down, fingers tightening on the peel.

And Ben? Ben fucking thrived on it.

You shifted. Just a little pivot at first, like the couch behind you had caught your spine wrong—but then you turned fully. Legs still folded, orange still in your hand, but now your back was to the TV. Facing him.

And fuck, did that do something to him.

You looked up at him like you were studying something holy. Like the way his thighs spread wide across the couch deserved your full attention.

He was rolling another blunt. Heavy fingers working slow and lazy, licking the edge of the wrap, eyes flicking down to the grinder, then back to you—because he could feel your gaze on him like a second sun.

You were watching him with interest. Genuine curiosity. Like what he was doing mattered.

Ben bit back a grin.

"You ever smoked?" He asked, not looking at you this time. Just letting the question hang in the air while he pinched the wrap closed.

You shook your head. "No." Simple. Soft. Honest.

He looked up then. Met your eyes. And the way you blinked back at him—like the word smoked was heavier than it should be—made his pulse kick.

"You wanna try it?" He asked, slow and smooth, licking the paper again before sealing it shut with a flick of his thumb.

You hesitated. Fingers still sticky from the orange, the peel scattered like little curls of light in your lap.

"What's it like?" You asked.

And fuck.

Ben had to glance away. Had to breathe through the smile threatening to split his face. Because that tone, that voice—like you were asking about communion or prayer or some hidden sacrament? That was everything.

He leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs.

"It's good," he said. "Warm. Slow. Makes your head float a little." He paused, then dropped his voice a notch. "Makes your body feel real nice too."

You stared at him, lips parted just slightly. And he could see it—the twitch in your thighs, the faint flutter behind your head, the way your fingers trembled around another slice of orange.

"C'mere," he said, patting the space between his legs. "I'll show you how to roll."

You blinked. And then? You obeyed. You gathered your peel, your fruit, your glow, and moved forward on your knees—settling back down right between his legs, cross-legged, your back pressed to the bottom of the sofa.

Ben bracketed you there. His thighs wide, his knees hugging your sides like a cage made of heat and sweatpants and muscle. You were right where he wanted you. He leaned over you, slow, reaching down with one hand to guide your fingers to the grinder, the wrap, the bud. His chest pressed lightly to your back. His breath brushed your ear.

"First you break it up," he murmured. "Not too fine. You want it fluffy."

You nodded, gaze locked on the bud between your fingers, trying to do it right. Ben watched. Watched the way your brow furrowed. Watched your tongue peek out just a little in concentration.

"You're doin' good," he said softly. "Real good."

You glanced back at him—just a flick of your eyes—and then returned to your task.

He bit his cheek to keep from groaning. Fuck, he loved teaching you. You didn't even know how much of you he'd already claimed. And now? Now he was gonna teach you how to sin one breath at a time.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you broke apart the bud between your thumbs—soft, sticky, unfamiliar. It didn't feel like anything sacred. Not sharp like holy relics or clinical like lab instruments. It was warm. Earthy. Crumbling between your fingertips like something grown wild.

Ben's knees pressed gently against your sides as he bracketed you on the floor, the heat of his body bleeding through your back where he leaned in—his forearms draped over his thighs, blunt tucked between his lips like it belonged there.

"Not too fine," he murmured, voice thick with smoke and something darker. "Want it loose. Like you're lettin' it breathe."

You nodded, your hair brushing his chin as you concentrated.

His chest met your spine then—slow and deliberate—and he didn't pull away. Just settled there behind you like it was nothing, like his breath against your ear wasn't making your skin feel too tight.

"That's it," he whispered. "Perfect."

He reached around you, guiding your hands toward the wrap paper—his fingers curling over yours, warm and callused, anchoring you in place. Your glow flickered, soft but steady, tracing the outline of his skin as if it couldn't help it.

"Now hold it like this," he said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Real gentle. Like you're foldin' a prayer."

You did. Your breath shallow. He stayed there, mouth too close, his voice slipping through you like heat pooling in a hollow you didn't have words for.

"Now you tuck," he said, dragging your fingers in place, showing you how to shape it, how to seal the roll. "Soft. Confident. Don't press too hard. You'll crack it."

You licked your lips. The paper sat heavy in your palm. Waiting. And then his hand moved again—guiding yours to the edge, fingers coiling around your wrist.

"You're gonna lick it now," he said.

You blinked.

"I—I am?"

"Mhm." His voice was quieter now. Thicker. "Just a little. Run your tongue along the edge. Slow."

You raised it carefully, your tongue flicking out to taste the faint, sweet bitterness of the glue. It wasn't anything special. But Ben's hand was still wrapped around yours, steadying it. His breath deepened.

"Just like that," he rasped. "Real fuckin' slow."

Your tongue moved again. You felt his fingers twitch.

"You got no idea how good that looks, do you?" He said, more to himself than to you. "Goddamn."

You flushed—deep and warm and all the way down. You didn't understand why. Not exactly. But something shifted. Coiled low in your stomach. Buzzed like static behind your ribs. You swallowed and tried to keep going, tried to pretend your thighs weren't tightening again. That your breathing wasn't shallow. That your hand wasn't shaking a little more.

But Ben saw it. He always saw it.

"You feelin' it again?" He murmured. "That little ache right in your pussy?"

Your hand paused. You blinked down at your lap.

"I... I think so."

He hummed. Pressed closer. His voice brushed your skin like velvet gone wicked.

"Means you're doin' it right," he said. "Means you're learnin'."

You looked back at him then—wide-eyed, lashes fluttering—and something in your expression made him smirk. Not cruel. Not cocky. Just knowing. Because some of it was still going over your head. You didn't fully grasp what he was doing. Not yet.

But some of it? Some of it you felt. And that was all he needed.

He let go of your hand and leaned back slightly, his chest still against your spine, letting you hold the half-rolled blunt like it was something precious.

"Go on, angel," he said, voice soft but slick. "Finish what you started."

You finished rolling it with slow, careful fingers, your tongue darting out one last time to smooth the edge like you were sealing a secret.

Ben didn't move. Didn't breathe. He just watched you turn—just slightly—glow catching the edge of your shoulder, and hold up the blunt to him with the sweetest little smile. Proud. Soft. Earnest. Like you thought you were helping. Like you'd just done something good.

And God help him—his cock fucking twitched. Hard. Hot. Heavy against the inside of his sweats where he was already aching. Because you didn't get it. Didn't know what it meant to sit between his legs, cross-legged and barefoot, glow humming soft and steady, holding out a freshly rolled joint like a girl offering a prayer.

You looked proud to please him. And it was drugs. It was sin. It was his.

He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and took it from your hand with exaggerated slowness, letting his fingers brush yours.

"Good girl," he said.

And you lit up like the words went straight through you. You flushed. Shifted a little. Your thighs pressed tighter.

He leaned in—smoke on his breath—and said, "Light it up."

You blinked. Shook your head.

"I don't know how."

Ben smiled. It wasn't kind. It was hungry. Then—without a word—he reached down and took your hand in his, slow and sure. Your fingers still smelled like citrus and weed. The blunt balanced in his other hand, waiting.

He stood, pulling you with him. You gasped softly as your orange slipped from your lap, forgotten, peel scattering across the floor. He didn't care. Didn't look. Just lifted you gently, turning, settling himself back onto the couch—and you into his lap, your back against his chest, your legs draped across his spread thighs like you were meant to sit there.

He wrapped one arm around your waist. Held you still. Pressed the blunt to your fingers again.

"You did so good for me," he murmured. "Look at you. Rollin' for your man now."

You shifted in his lap, nervous. Embarrassed. But your thighs squeezed again. Ben noticed. He nuzzled against your temple, breath hot in your hair.

"You feel that again?" He whispered. "That little throb? That ache between your legs?"

You whimpered. Soft. And real.

"I—I don't know why it won't stop."

His grip tightened.

"You want me to fix it?" He rasped.

You nodded. Fast. Breathless.

"Yeah?" He said, mouth brushing your jaw now. "You want me to take care of it, angel?"

"Yes," you whispered.

But it wasn't enough. Not for him. Ben exhaled against your skin, his voice dropping into a growl laced with reverence and rot.

"Then ask."

You blinked.

"I—I did."

"No," he said, dragging his nose along your cheek. "You nodded. That's not the same."

You swallowed hard. "I want—" You faltered. "I want you to fix it."

"Fix what?" He pushed, cock grinding up beneath you now, slow and rhythmic. "Say it. What do you want from me?"

Your head dropped slightly, glow flickering hard behind you.

"I want you," you whispered. "I want you to make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

You squirmed. And Ben held you still.

"C'mon, baby," he murmured. "Be brave now. You were so good earlier. You can do this."

Your breath caught.

"The ache," you said. "The ache between my legs. Please."

God.

Ben groaned, hips twitching beneath you. You felt it. You felt how hard he was now. And still—you stayed in his lap. You let him hold you there.

"Please," you said again, smaller now. "Ben. Please fix it."

His name on your lips broke something in him. He didn't even realise he'd started rocking until you gasped—soft, startled, but not afraid. He held you tighter.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You have no idea what you just did."

You didn't even flinch when he touched you. When his hand slid beneath Frenchie's shirt—his shirt now, let's be honest—and found those sweet little panties clinging damp to your cunt, you didn't pull away. You just gasped. Quiet. Broken. Fragile in a way that made Ben's chest throb harder than his cock.

White cotton. Soft. A satin bow dead centre like a target.

Like you were made for this. For him.

"You really don't know what you're doin' to me, do you," he rasped, his palm dragging up the soft inside of your thigh, slow and reverent, until his thumb rested right beneath that little bow. "Sittin' here, glowin' like salvation, beggin' me to touch you."

You turned your face into his shoulder, hiding from the sound of your own need. But it didn't matter. He could feel it.

"I didn't know it would feel like this," you whispered. "I didn't think it would keep coming back."

Ben let out a low, wrecked breath. His cock throbbed beneath you, untouched, aching as he cupped your cunt with the flat of his hand—over the fabric. He didn't pull your panties aside. Didn't need to.

Not yet. You were already soaked. Already his. He pressed harder, slow and firm, and you cried out—a soft, cracked little sound that made his fucking eyes roll back.

"That's it," he murmured, lips brushing your temple. "You're not broken, baby. You're just wet. Just needy."

You whimpered again. Your fingers clutched at his thighs, nails digging through the fabric of his sweats like you didn't know what else to hold on to.

He started to move his hand. Gentle circles. Right over your clit. Right through the soaked cotton. Steady. Filthy. Calculated. And your whole body went taut, your back arching just enough to grind against his palm.

"You feel that?" He whispered. "That's me takin' care of it. Just like you asked me to."

You nodded, desperate now, thighs squeezing around his wrist.

"I think it's happening again," you gasped. "That—feeling."

Ben groaned into your hair.

"Yeah it is," he said, voice low and sharp. "You're close. I can feel it. That little glow startin' to flicker."

And fuck—he was right. Your halo stuttered behind you like a lightbulb dying. Your hips twitched. Your breath hitched. And then you broke. You came in his lap, shaking and glowing, your little cotton panties clinging to you like second skin, your body pulsing in his arms as you moaned into his throat.

Ben didn't stop rubbing. He held you through it, crooning low praise into your ear while your body trembled and your glow sputtered and surged like it didn't know whether to bless or burn.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's my good fuckin' girl. So goddamn perfect for me."

You whimpered. Soft and ruined and confused.

Ben dragged his nose along your jaw.

"I'm gonna keep doin' this," he whispered, "till you glow every time I fuckin' touch you."

You were still trembling in his lap. Halo flickering low. Your thighs twitching, chest rising and falling like you were still chasing air that wouldn't quite fill your lungs.

And Ben? He hadn't moved.

His hand was still between your legs, still cupping that soaked cotton like it was something sacred. His fingers worked soft, slow circles against the swollen heat he could feel even through the fabric—drawing it out, coaxing every last twitch and whimper from your overworked nerves.

You shifted. Turned in his lap to face him, knees bracketing his hips. A knee nudging closer. A breath caught in your throat. A subtle arch of your hips as you tried to ease away from the phantom touch, sensitive now, trembling from the comedown.

But that movement? That movement dragged your body right over his cock. And fuck. His whole body jerked.

The sound he made—sharp, raw—was half a groan, half a growl, bitten off like it physically hurt. Because it did.

You froze. Lifted your head just enough to look up at him, wide-eyed and glowing in the throat of your own wreckage.

"Ben," you whispered. "Does it hurt again?"

Your voice was soft. Gentle. Wounded with concern. He swallowed hard, jaw tight. You placed your palm to his chest, right over his heart—glowing faintly as your grace stirred back to life. Ready to fix him. Ready to soothe.

He closed his eyes for a second. Let himself feel the warmth of your hand. Let himself imagine what he was about to do.

"Yeah," he rasped. "Yeah, angel. It hurts."

Your glow flared a little brighter.

"Where?"

He opened his eyes. Met yours. And moved your hand lower. Slow. Gentle. Reverent. He guided it down, over the ridges of his abdomen—firm, flushed hot through the thin cotton of his tee. Then lower, to the waistband of his sweats. And lower still, until your palm settled over the thick, pulsing heat straining beneath the fabric.

Your fingers curled slightly in surprise. You gasped.

And Ben shuddered.

"Right there," he breathed. "That's where it hurts."

Your mouth parted. Your hand trembled slightly over the hard length beneath his pants. He was hot. Huge. Throbbing. And you didn't pull away. You looked up at him instead, blinking slow, your halo humming behind your head like a question no one had the answer to.

"I can take care of it," he said, voice rough with restraint, "but I know you, sweetheart. You always wanna help."

You stared at him. Then—softly, hesitantly:

"What can I do to make it better?"

Ben nearly came from the sound of that. Your voice. Your hand. The sincerity. You weren't teasing him. You weren't flirting. You weren't playing some game. You were offering. Because you didn't know what it meant.

And that was what made it so fucking holy.

His breath came heavy now, slow and deep as he leaned in, forehead nearly resting against yours.

"You really wanna help me, angel?" He whispered, eyes dark, his cock twitching beneath your touch.

You nodded. Fingers shifting slightly over the heat in his sweats.

"I'll tell you what to do," he murmured. "Nice and slow. You just listen, yeah? Let me teach you."

You nodded again, breathless now.

Ben kissed your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth. And whispered:

"Time to start learnin' how to take care of me, baby."

You didn't pull away. You didn't look afraid. You just kept your hand there—palm warm, trembling over the thick line of his cock where it strained beneath the soft cotton of his sweats. Your glow pulsed low. Like a question. Like a prayer trying to rewrite itself.

And then?

You moved. Just a little. Your fingers shifted. Curled. Pressed down gently, tracing the shape of him through the fabric like you were trying to understand something holy. Like you were trying to learn.

Ben swore under his breath. His hips twitched beneath you.

"Shit, baby."

You looked up. Startled. Curious.

"Am I doing it wrong?"

His chest cracked open at the sound of your voice. Soft. Earnest. Like you thought this was some sacred duty, and you just wanted to do it right.

He shook his head, breath shallow.

"No. Fuck, no. You're doin' perfect."

You blinked slowly, lashes brushing your cheeks, eyes wide as you looked back down to where your hand still rested over him.

Ben exhaled rough through his nose. His cock pulsed.

"You wanna really help?" He asked, voice thick, gravel-smoked and reverent.

You nodded.

He caught your hand again. Guided it lower, fingers curling over yours until your palm pressed firm to the wet, leaking shape of him beneath his sweats.

"Start by pullin' it out for me."

Your lips parted.

"Pull... it out?"

"Mhm," he murmured. "Go on. It's okay."

You hesitated. Then your fingers slid to the waistband. Careful. Hesitant. Your knuckles brushed the bare skin of his stomach as you eased the fabric down. He helped you. Lifted his hips slightly. And then—you saw it.

Him.

Thick and flushed and already slick with need, his cock curved heavy against his thigh, veins prominent, the head wet and weeping, his breath ragged now, his hands white-knuckled at your hips like he couldn't believe you were doing this.

Your eyes went wide. You stared. Not in fear. Just... in awe.

Ben groaned.

"You see what you do to me?" He said, voice cracking. "Look at that, baby. Look how hard I get just from touchin' you."

You reached out. And you held it. Fingers wrapping around him, awkward and soft, like you weren't sure how much pressure to use. Like you were afraid you might break something divine.

His breath left him in a stuttered exhale. "Fuck."

You looked up, halo flickering faint behind your head.

"Is... this okay?"

Ben almost laughed. Almost came right then. "You have no idea how good that feels," he rasped. "How fuckin' perfect you look like this."

Your hand moved. Tentative strokes. Gentle. Inconsistent. But you were trying, you were learning. And he couldn't take his eyes off you. Your face. The way your lips parted in focus. The way your cheeks flushed. The way your lashes fluttered as you looked back down at him with that soft little furrow in your brow—like you were still trying to memorise him.

Like he was sacred.

"Look at me," he said, voice low and shaking. "Keep lookin' at me while you do it."

You obeyed. Your hand never stopped.

And God help him—he swore he could see his corruption sinking into you now, threading through every breath, every stroke, every flicker of that trembling halo behind your head. You, sitting in his lap in Frenchie's shirt, thighs bare, glow soft, mouth parted—stroking him like he was something worth saving.

This wasn't a blowjob. This wasn't porn. This wasn't a tease.

This was a fucking ritual.

And Ben didn't know how much longer he could last, because your hand moved in slow, careful strokes, wrapped around the thick length of his cock like it might break if you weren't gentle.

Ben's head dropped back.

He groaned—loud and wrecked—his hips twitching beneath you as precum spilled hot and heavy over your knuckles. His eyes were glazed. His breath came in ragged pulls.

And fuck, you were still looking up at him. Glowing. Innocent. Curious. Concerned. Like you were still helping. Like this wasn't corruption. Like this wasn't worship. He felt the pressure building. Tight and feral and close—so fucking close.

And you kept going. Soft little strokes with your small, warm hand. Your breath hitched every time his cock pulsed. Your glow flickered, trembling, and you bit your lip like you didn't understand why it felt so right to do this. To please him. To hold something sacred and make it throb.

Ben's jaw locked.

His hands gripped your hips—tight, too tight—and he felt it swell, rising like a wave that was about to crash—

"Fuck—" he hissed, voice cracking.

And then he did the hardest thing he'd done in his entire fucked-up life. He reached down, wrapped his fingers around your wrist, and stopped you.

Your hand stilled. Your glow dimmed. You looked up, eyes wide, brows pulled in, lips parted like you were trying to understand why.

"Did I... do something wrong?"

Shit.

Ben felt the whole thing stall in his gut—cock twitching, breath caught, a pulse of need so sharp it bordered on pain.

That look. That look. Sad. Hurt. Glowing like grace could still save him.

He grit his teeth. Groaned. Forced the words through clenched breath. "No, baby," he said. "No. You didn't do anythin' wrong."

You blinked up at him. Then looked down at your hand—still wrapped around him, warm and wet and so fucking perfect—and your glow dimmed just a little more.

Ben reached for your cheek. Held it in his palm and tilted your face back up.

"It's not 'cause you messed up," he rasped. "It's 'cause I want it, sweetheart."

He leaned in. Nose brushing yours. Voice low. Filthy.

"I want the first time I come to be in your fuckin' mouth."

You gasped. Small. Shaky. Your hand twitched against him. And he groaned again. Forced himself to breathe through it.

"Or inside you," he whispered. "Deep. Messy. Glowin' like a fuckin' altar while I fuck you full."

You blinked—still confused. Still glowing. But now you were shaking too.

And Ben? He smiled. Dark. Gentle. A little unhinged. He leaned in, kissed your cheek—slow and reverent—and whispered against your skin:

"You start beggin' for it, angel? I'll give you every drop I got."

Then he let go of your hand. And looked at you—halo flickering, fingers slick with him, panties damp and forgotten beneath Frenchie's shirt—still holding his cock like it meant something.

Like you were starting to understand.

a/n: GOD DAMN IT. I love this series. Part four is written already. I'm almost done with part five... I'm gonna level with y'all now: I don't think five parts is enough. We'll see if I can wrap it up in five but... it's looking like I'll need more if I wanna get everything I'm envisioning written. I hope y'all like it! Please let me know! All the fuckin' love.

Soldier Boy/Ben taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @bohoooitsme @lanasgirlfr @justatinybud @bitchykittenconnoisseur <3

[ikeuverse]

anything for you | sjy

pairing: mafiaboss!jake x fem!reader  genres: lots of angst, smut, fluff wc: 12.5k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : lots of swearing, blood, drugs, guns and knives, kidnapping, injuries, death, torture. jake is ruthless, but he does it to protect his beloved, you know. unprotected sex, sex in the shower, very vanilla. jake is soft because he wants reconciliation. lmk if i forgot anything!

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : when jake said he would do anything to find you, he wasn't kidding. he would go from heaven to hell. but what he feared most was that now, more than ever, he needed to tell you the whole truth.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : did i hear an amen? part 2 of dual life is right here. idk if i liked it as much as the first one, but i tried to put together some of the things that people asked me to make happen, so… i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 part 1 | masterlist ꒱

The only noise in the room was the footsteps of the men coming in and out, bringing back information and receiving orders to continue their work.

“So?” Jongseong asked as soon as Sunghoon entered, almost bumping into one of the henchmen who had just left. He heard a brief apology from the man before seeing him continue walking out of the room, leaving him to approach the huge table where the rest of his friends were.

“I managed to convince him to take that stupid sleeping pill” Sunghoon pulled up a chair but didn't sit down. He looked at Jongseong cautiously, then ran his eyes over every man there. Heeseung kept his worried eyes on his new friend, giving a little murmur of understanding. Then he noticed Sunoo's presence, the infamous computer right in front of him as he typed a few things. His gaze left the screen for a few seconds to greet him before returning to what he was doing.

“We can't let him leave that room before we've gathered the amount of information we need to go after whoever it is,” Heeseung said, and Sunghoon continued to stare at his other friends. Riki was on the edge of the table with a look of pure anger and he didn't know if it was because of the recently failed mission or because he was worried about Jaeyun. Few times had the friends seen the chief like this, one of them being at the death of Mr. Sim, when all the men had mourned for countless weeks. Now seeing him like that felt like it.

“I think we're almost there, guys.” Sunoo kept his voice upbeat to stay positive. He knew how difficult it was to be cheerful in that job, but he tried to keep it as brief as possible.

Hearing footsteps behind him and a movement around him, he knew that all his friends in the room were now perched behind him and his trusty computer, looking at the screen and seeing what had been discovered.

“What have you discovered?” asked Riki.

Curious eyes stared at a series of codes that Sunoo had decoded, tracking down security cameras until he found what he needed. The camera from the parking lot of the building where Jaeyun and you worked. It fit like a glove, the clear image and the exact time when the small van entered the parking lot, giving easy access to the license plate and the moment when a man dressed in dark clothes cornered you and covered your mouth with a cloth. Their stomachs churned strangely, watching the scene unfold before them and, minutes later, Jaeyun kneeling and shouting in the parking lot.

“Did you track the van?” Heeseung looked at Sunoo, not wanting to see the countless seconds his friend was being watched on camera, pacing back and forth with his cell phone in his hand. Everyone remembered the moment Jaeyun called, screaming that you had been kidnapped.

“Voilà” he always liked to boast when he achieved something so difficult in such a short period. But something caught Sunoo's eye as he pulled up the images on the small virtual map of where the van had been found “Shit” he cursed.

“What? What is it, man?” Jongseong snapped, lightly pushing Sunghoon who was closest to the one sitting in front of the computer. He looked at where Sunoo was staring, a little paralyzed, and his stomach churned once again “It can't be.”

“Can you two talk about what's going on? Shit” Riki wanted to shout.

There was silence for a while before Sunoo looked away from the computer and sighed.

“The address is Joseph Sim Fields' shed,” he said, “Joe Fields.”

That name sent a chill down the spine of anyone in that room. In that particular mob. Joseph had been responsible for the shot that had taken the life of Jonathan Sim, his brother and Jaeyun's father. Jake's uncle who he had admired for so long and who was to blame for all the trouble of making him take on something so young.

After the upset and Joseph seeing the fortress his brother had created for Jaeyun to take over, his plan had fallen apart. He wouldn't be his brother's successor, he wouldn't inherit the whole Sim mafia and all the luxury that came with it. So it made him feel disgusted with the family he came from, changing his surname and never wanting to be linked to the Sims again. Fields was even better and gave off a more frightening air, he thought.

“What do we do now?” Heeseung threw himself into the chair next to Sunoo, one of his hands almost pulling out the strands of hair and messing them up in the process. He looked at them one by one, seeing his friends as lost as he was.

“First we need to hold Jake back when we break the news,” Sunghoon said, “or he'll kill his uncle before we even find Y/n.”

Another chill ran down my spine. Now the problem had been doubled. Not only did they have to find where they had gone with you, but they also had to control Jaeyun when he broke the news that his uncle was behind it all.

Facing his friends who were just as apprehensive as he was, Sunghoon felt a lump form in his throat as he tried to swallow the amount of saliva in his mouth. Nervousness took over every fiber of his body as he saw more information being retrieved by Sunoo's tracking codes.

“Then we have to come up with a plan to go to the shed, confront Joseph, and bring Y/n back.”

The slamming of the door broke the silence that would settle between the boys once their thoughts had been aligned. All eyes went straight to the source of the noise, seeing Jaeyun enter with a red face and burning eyes. Anger was personified in him at that moment and his friends were thankful that nothing sharp or a weapon was near him.

“Jake” Sunghoon began.

“So you wanted to dope me up to find out that my uncle is behind this?” he laughed humorlessly, taking a few steps to lean over the table, on the opposite side from where everyone else was standing.

A little further back, Jungwon rushed in, panting. One hand clutching his chest as he struggled to breathe, he almost lost his balance when he got a little closer and put pills on the table.

“I wanted you to rest—” Sunghoon's eyes were on the medication placed on the table by Jungwon. He quickly swerved to Jaeyun's hands knocking the only two glass vases to the floor, the deafening thud of the shards rushing across the room.

“My fucking uncle is trying to kill my girlfriend and you want to give me sleeping pills?” he shouted. Fear was creeping up on him and the others, not because of Jaeyun's angry tone, but because of what he might be capable of. The skin on his forehead was wet and his chest rose and fell with fervor, his breathing completely accelerated as he leaned away from the table for a moment.

“Jake, we—”

“Lucky for all of you, I don't kill my best friends” he interrupted Heeseung with his words, raising one of his hands in the air to stop him from continuing. At this point, adrenaline combined with anger prevented him from shedding any more tears. But the absurd urge to cry persisted in Jaeyun's body. Even more so knowing that you were in the hands of a scumbag like his uncle. The hatred ate away at him even more after what he had done to his father, now his girlfriend was in the hands of the same man who had made his life a living hell.

Jungwon took a few steps closer to the others, glancing at Sunoo's computer and then at Jaeyun still standing in front of them. His breathing rate never slowed, worrying his friends that he might have a seizure or, worse, another fit of rage that could kill them all. No one knew what he might be capable of.

“Jake” Jungwon called out in a slightly calmer voice, earning him a glance. A mixture of anger, pain, and fear. Jaeyun was afraid and everyone in the room could see it in him because they simply knew him. And he hated it all. He hated being vulnerable in the hands of the same man who had taken away the most important person in his life, now being with someone else just as important “We need to line up a plan. I think the boys were already starting to think about it.”

“Were you?” he asked, looking at each of them until he stopped at Sunghoon.

“Did you hear what I said before I came in and nearly broke down that door?”

“Don't make me shoot you, Park. I swear to God…”

“Let's think about the plan, shall we?” it was Jongseong's turn to interrupt, clapping his hands twice to try and make it dissipate any negative energy, although everything there was so heavy that a simple act was proving impossible.

“Think of a fucking plan and get all my men together” Jaeyun bit the inside of his cheek, ready to scream a swear word that was stuck in his throat. But he just chose to swallow dry, Adam's apple dancing in his throat as he felt the rage consume him even more. As if he was completely blinded by his actions and needed Joseph Fields' neck between his fingers to ease it all “We're leaving for that fucking shed tonight.”

Just as quickly as he had entered that room, Jaeyun left, leaving the door ajar and all his friends frightened. And with the mission of agility to come up with a plan in a few hours to get out of there looking for him.

You could feel every part of your body ache at the slightest touch of air against your skin. This could only mean that you were injured, or that the position you were in had been the same for a long time. You really wanted it to be the second option.

Fear and dread still flooded your insides at the vivid memory of hands covering your mouth and then Jaeyun's agonized face through the dark glass of that vehicle they put you in. The person who did this to you could only have wanted something in return, perhaps money. You were so panicked that nothing could be heard apart from your screams calling out your boyfriend's name and his cries of horror as the car got further away. After that moment, everything seemed like a blur to you and you were so nervous that you were sure you had fainted. Now, the sound of footsteps around you made you panic again. It could mean that you weren't alone, wherever you were.

Would it be bad to open your eyes now? Or you could keep pretending to be unconscious to see if you could get anything else, but also… What could you do? Painful, helpless, not knowing where you were. Nothing could help you at that moment.

So the uncertainty made you open your eyes slowly, the light from the room burning your orbs as you blinked slowly to try to get used to the brightness.

“Come on, boss… Our girl's awake” the voice was unfamiliar, you'd never heard it before. So you had no way of identifying who it was, just hoping that he might say something else to you. But that didn't happen. Instead of the boy saying anything else, another man took the lead and started walking towards you, coming out of the darkness of the corner of the room with a serious, frowning countenance. A chill ran down his spine.

“You've been asleep for so long, darling” his voice was deeper than the first, and this sent another chill through her body. Perhaps the wind in the room was now giving you chills in addition to the physical pain. When he approached you, bending down to bring his face close to yours, you tried to move. Maybe run out of there… But it was obvious that your body was tied up. Who would kidnap someone and leave them loose? “Tsk, in a hurry, princess? We haven't even introduced ourselves.”

Every affectionate nickname made you want to vomit all over that man. You wanted to feel angry at the calmness and serenity in his eyes, but at the same time, fear was eating away at you because you'd never seen him before.

“You're Y/n, right?” he knew you, hell. Of course, he did!

No answer, no nod to confirm that it was… He didn't need one either. Although wanted that conversation to be between the two of you, it sounded like a monologue since you weren't saying anything at all.

“Great,” he said “I'm Joseph Sim Fields, but you can call me Joe.”

Joseph Sim… Was he related to Jaeyun?

Your eyes widened and that was the reaction he had wanted ever since he started talking to you. A devilish smile crept across the lips of the man in front of your.

“It's familiar to you, isn't it?” he asked softly “But I don't like joining the Sim, so you don't have to worry” he nodded to the boy who had been quiet until now. You felt nauseous just looking at the amusement of the two men in front of you, it seemed like the most normal thing in the world to have someone tied to a chair while they acted grotesquely.

“Boss!” someone banged on the steel door, making a small bang as you cringed a little more. Any lousy sound startled you.

“What is it? I hope it's important!” Joseph turned to the other man who was entering the room, you didn't even bother to face him, you didn't have the strength to keep recording faces all the time.

“I think they've found us” he said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. Your ears perked up and, even though you weren't looking at the men who were talking, all your attention was on them.

“What do you mean?”

“Jake's call” he replied “Someone must have blown a hole in the operation and they found out.”

The young man had a cell phone in his hand, probably on mute as he passed the information on to Joseph. You looked up at the older man, who took the device in his free hand and brought it to his lips to silence you.

“Dear nephew! To what do I owe the honor of your call?” falsely the welcome he had never given his nephew. Clicking on the speakerphone and approaching you in cautious steps, surely he wanted you to listen too.

“What have you done to my girlfriend, you piece of shit?” he shouted across the line. That voice was familiar, you knew it. It was Jaeyun's, for sure.

“Oh, is that any way to talk to your uncle, Jake?” pouting, Joseph approached you and leaned towards you “Why do you think I'm with your girlfriend?”

Something crossed your mind, you didn't want to risk disobeying whoever had kidnapped you. But at the same time, adrenaline and determination coursed through your veins as you heard the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Jaeyun!” you shouted on impulse, and as quickly as it came, Joseph's free hand struck your cheek with a single blow.

“Bitch! I told you to be quiet!”

“Don't touch her!” Jaeyun said at the same time as his uncle shouted at you.

“Good, you've ruined everything” he said, your face beginning to take on a reddish tinge. Your lip had a small bleeding cut and your hair covered most of your face. He smiled with satisfaction at what he had done, knowing that on the other end of the phone, Jaeyun was squirming and thinking that you were even more hurt than you looked.

“I swear to God if she's hurt—”

“What are you going to do, Jake?” he laughed “First tell your sweet girlfriend the truth, maybe she'll decide if she wants to remain my prisoner or if she'd rather stay away from her lying boyfriend.”

“Joseph, shut up.”

That man's laughter sent your nerves into a negative trance and made you want to vomit. You noticed that he came closer again and, with the same hand that had slapped your cheek, he smoothed it.

“You know, darling… Jaeyun's just a fake” he began, his callused fingers trailing across your cheek until they reached your chin “God, Jake. Her skin is so soft…”

More shouts came from the other end of the phone. This seemed to excite the older man who insisted on touching her face even more. Then he pulled away.

“I want to know. How did you find out about me?”

“You don't have the smartest men, you asshole” Jaeyun took a deep breath, something moving in the background of the call and he assumed it was his nephew's hurried footsteps in the form of nervousness. He knew very well how to push the younger man's buttons. For a long time, Joseph was silent, trying to grasp the information he had received, feeling his blood boil when he heard the rest of the information “Kidnapping someone with a visible license plate isn't the best thing, is it?”

Shit. He should have checked when he asked some of his men to go after you. That was like the number one rule of kidnapping, even more so if they went to a parking lot full of cameras. Joseph glanced at Yunhee, who looked as shocked as he was, trying to find some excuse to get out of it and not show fear.

“What if I did it on purpose so you'd track the wrong place?” he asked, giving a wide smile even though the other couldn't see it. It was Jaeyun's turn to laugh heartily.

“Then you'd have to be smarter than me, dear uncle” he said.

What do he mean? What did Jaeyun mean by that? You watched the conversation quietly, your cheeks burning and a thousand questions running through your mind.

“Smarter than you? I made you think we were after drugs, I put that fucking van with a sign on it for you to track down in the wrong place—” Jaeyun's laughter echoed again, causing the older man to stop his ramblings midway through. He looked at you, his eyes wide as his nephew uttered the next words.

“Our call is lasting more than two minutes” Jaeyun said “Long enough for me to track down where you are, you piece of shit.”

“Jake.”

“Get away from my girlfriend!” he knew that his uncle wasn't bluffing, he also knew that he wasn't smart enough and that that shed was just the beginning. Jaeyun also knew that staying on that call while Sunoo tracked down which part of the shed you were in was just the icing on the cake for him to break into that shit.

And that's what happened next. You heard a bang outside, shouting, gunshots and swearing. It all happened so fast that you didn't realize when the door to the room you were in had been knocked down.

The first thing you saw amid the men rushing into the room and fighting, were Jaeyun's eyes. They were bright red, his pupils dilated and his face completely wrinkled. This only intensified after he ran his gaze over your face, stopping exactly at your bruised lip. Without saying a word, he saw his men getting into a fight with the men who worked for his uncle, dodging their bodily struggles to get to you. Kneeling in front of you and running his eyes all over your body.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else? Did Joseph do anything else to you?” as Jaeyun asked, his hands ran loosely through the ropes that were tied to your arms. It took no effort at all for him to untie the knots and loosen the cuffs so that they could stop hurting your skin.

“No” you replied quietly, your voice lacking intonation as everything hit you at once.

Jaeyun was wearing a completely different outfit from the one you used to see him in. Dark pants, a tank top, a leather jacket. It wasn't the expensive suits and gelled hair. The disheveled curls of his hair were tossed in any way so as not to obscure the view, while his lips were chapped and nibbled. Surely nervousness had taken over and made him do it.

After untying you, he looked up, looked into your eyes. You held his gaze for a while before you felt your vision blur. Your chest was aching, your heart was beating so hard that you didn't even know how you felt.

“Let's get out of here” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him. But to his surprise, you refused. You couldn't move from the chair or stand up, but you also didn't know whether to believe him. And when Jaeyun looked curiously at your rejection, he could see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes. “Love, I—”

“Don't call me that, please, Jaeyun” you whimpered, cringing when he approached again, crouching in front of you ”Or Jake? What should I call you now?”

A gunshot would hurt less than seeing the pain in your eyes and the way you were talking to him. Jaeyun knew it was your right to feel this way, and he knew you'd find out somehow. He just hadn't counted on the way it all happened.

“I'll explain everything to you later, we're just going to get out of here. All right?”

“Why so fast?” Joseph's voice alerted Jaeyun's senses and yours. You quickly got up from the chair and he instinctively tucked you behind his back. Protecting you like a shield as you watched your uncle approach. The gun pointed at Jaeyun as he looked at you over his shoulder with that nauseating smile “We haven't even talked as a family yet.”

“We're not a family, Joseph” Jaeyun spat. His hands went behind his back in search of you in case you strayed too far. You didn't know how, but your hands entwined in his and you could feel some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate with the contact, finally.

“Of course we are, I'm your uncle.”

“You ceased to be the day you killed my father” you swallowed back a sob, squeezing Jaeyun's hands with the new confession. Feeling his hands squeeze yours back, as a way of sensing that you were there, despite the confusion.

“But he didn't want to give me the job, that little shit boss” pouting again, the gun Joseph was pointing at Jaeyun was unsheathed. He put it back in his waistband holster, taking a few steps in the direction you and Jaeyun were facing “So he gave it to you.”

“You're crazy!” the younger man almost shouted when he saw that his uncle was close enough, receiving a laugh in response.

“Do you know what your boyfriend does behind your back, princess?”

“I told you not to talk to her like that” letting go of your hands, Jaeyun slipped away like sand between your fingers. He ran up to Joseph and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt the man was wearing. He walked with him to the nearby wall and threw the older man's back against the worn steel. The noise echoed throughout the room and made you cringe and put your hands to your ears in fear.

Joseph groaned at the sudden pain but kept smiling and looking into Jaeyun's eyes.

“Did he tell you that Sim Jaeyun is just a front to keep up appearances?” he looked away from you, noticing that your hands were gradually moving away from your ears “That your boyfriend is Jake Sim, the Sim family's drug kingpin and mafia boss?”

All the noise outside that room seemed to be inside your body now. Gunshots, running, and screams resembled the beating of your heart, the veins pulsing in your temples and your breathing starting to fail.

Jaeyun shouted so loudly that it didn't even bother you, and it was a blur for you to see the two of them grappling right in front of you. The first punch was thrown by Jaeyun, hitting his uncle in the jaw as he loosened his shirt collar and watched him stagger to the side. He took a few steps backward, feeling the older man return the punch and soon the metallic taste between his lips appeared with the force that was thrown back at him.

Joseph was angry, he needed to get it out, as did his nephew. So each time he felt the attack, he tried to go with the same intensity, knowing that the younger man was trying to take away his attention and skill by reaching for the gun in his holster.

“Y/n, get out of here!” Jaeyun shouted, getting his attention after Joseph managed to throw him to the ground in one blow. The older man threw a few kicks, hitting him once in the stomach and he groaned in pain even more. Your eyes were wide, your body was static and you didn't know what to do. You couldn't move as you saw Jaeyun bleeding and beaten right in front of you.

Get out of here now. He repeated each time he punched the man who was trying at all costs to hurt him even more.

“Heeseung!” Jaeyun saw the light at the end of the tunnel when one of his best friends appeared. He was hurt too, with a cut on his eyebrow and his mouth bleeding, but nothing compared to Jaeyun. He rushed over, managing to grab Joseph by the collar and push him away from his friend's body.

“Son of a bitch!” Joseph shouted as his back hit the ground. He groped his hips for the gun, smiling as he saw Jaeyun rise from the ground with Heeseung's help. His nephew's eyes never left his direction, watching as he picked up the gun and even as he cocked it and pointed it in his direction. Jaeyun whispered something to Heeseung, only for the boy to understand as he approached you.

Joseph might have thought it was beautiful, the typical scene where he knew his nephew would die from being shot. But he would protect his beloved from seeing the scene. When Jaeyun walked towards him, his steps slow and dragging, the younger man had his hands behind his back, almost showing his surrender. Would it be his redemption to die to save you? Pathetic, Joe thought. That was typical of the Sim family, not him.

“What are your last words, Jake Sim?” the gun was right in his chest, and Jaeyun felt his blood run cold. He didn't know what he was doing, but he was going to risk it.

He cut himself off from everything else. From your voice screaming and struggling in Heeseung's arms, from the men on the other side cursing and running, from the persistent gunfire outside. He only focused on Joseph's gaze and how that man had taken everything from him. But it wouldn't be like that anymore. Jaeyun wouldn't let history repeat itself, let alone let everything his father had built fall into the hands of someone like Joseph Fields.

He stopped in front of the man he once believed to be his uncle. His eyes were burning with the tears that were about to fall, his heart pounding against his chest and every fiber of his body ached with the uncertainty of what would happen next.

“Go to hell, you fucking scum” Jaeyun said slowly, with the intention of each word piercing Joseph even deeper. He laughed loudly, firing the gun at the same second that Jaeyun ran a few steps towards him.

A shot. A single shot hits Jaeyun and makes him bump into Joseph’s body.

You screamed, feeling Heeseung’s grip even tighter against your body, preventing you from getting closer. Bloodstained your boyfriend’s shirt, but what caught your attention was that Joseph fell first. His body collapsed in front of Jaeyun while a knife pierced his chest and ribs. Joseph quickly dropped the gun that had just been fired to run his hands over the wound in his body. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His hands were shaking, trying to pull out the knife that Jaeyun had stuck in his hand, but with each passing second, he had less strength to do so. He staggered a few times until he leaned against the wall and slowly slid his body to the floor.

As you tried to process what was happening, you saw that your boyfriend's body staggered too. And before you could see him fall to the floor, all the shock and trauma made you faint in Heeseung's arms.

If someone told you that you had been sleeping in that hospital chair for a week, you would probably laugh in response. There was no way that much time had passed, and besides, the sound of the gunshot was still vivid in your mind. The amount of blood you saw, the times you passed out and woke up next to Heeseung and Jungwon. Everything was so confusing, but at the same time, so terrifying.

You wanted to wake up from that nightmare, forget that you had been through everything, and wake up in your bed or Jaeyun's bed. Hearing his sleepy voice and his grumbling about not wanting to go to work so early that day. Why couldn't all that just go back? Why did things have to happen that way?

Looking around, you noticed that you were in the presence of a tall man again. Burly and with a serious face, they greeted every other person who passed by in the hospital hallway.

Security guards. That's what Sunghoon had told you on the first day. Jaeyun wouldn't let you go unsupervised while his friends went in and out of the hospital, trying to catch Joseph's men who had still managed to escape. It was a load of crap to have someone watch you, but considering everything you'd been through, maybe it wasn't that much of an exaggeration.

“Miss Y/n?” the nurse's calm voice snapped you out of your thoughts, adjusting your body in the chair you were sitting in and standing up when she came in. Greeting the security guard, she brought a small tray with some things for you to eat. “I was asked to deliver them to you.”

“I'm not hungry, thank you” you politely declined, trying to smile at her while the woman just shook her head.

“But you need to eat, or Jake will kill us if he finds out about this” another voice interrupted your conversation with the nurse, and you both looked at the door to see Jongseong standing there. In this chaotic little week, you had met his friends, but you didn't want it to be under these circumstances.

You wanted to know how they had met, even if it was through illegal work, but at least it would be a story to tell. Or to know how long they had been friends. Anything normal that didn’t involve finding them all hurt, needing medical attention, and taking turns checking on you while they changed bloody bandages or bandages on your body.

“He—” hasn’t even woken up yet, you wanted to add. And Jongseong knew that would come out of your mouth. But with the same intensity that you thought, he decided to keep quiet. Not wanting to verbalize the fear he was feeling for not having any news about Jaeyun and that he had opened his eyes or made any progress.

Jongseong waved to the nurse who said goodbye to the two of you, leaving you with him and the security guard who was still at the door to make sure everything was okay. He waited for you to sit back down in the chair, silently approaching you, sitting in the chair across from yours.

“I… I don’t know what to say now” he confessed. Your elbows were resting on your bent knees and your posture was as intense as possible – or so he thought – while your eyes rolled over the amount of food that had been brought to you.

“Okay” you whispered, “I think you need to rest, Jongseong.”

“Call me Jay” he said next, his eyes going to you after inspecting all the food that was there, “And at least eat the toast. Jungwon said that all women like that kind, you too, don’t you?”

Your eyes quickly went to the food, letting a laugh escape between your lips. It was simple. A slice of cheese, tomato, and a few other spices. Nothing too grand and anyone would like to eat it. But their intentions were good and that made, for the first time that week, your heart warm a little.

You leaned over and took the toast, biting into a piece and receiving a slow smile from Jongseong in front of you.

“Eat with me then” since he was going to be there, you would feel bad knowing that he wouldn’t have eaten anything. So the boy picked up one of the chocolate muffins on the end of the tray and took a bite. The sound of biting and chewing between you wasn’t uncomfortable or bad, but it filled the room. You realize that your stomach hurts just from having coffee and some cookies in your stomach during the day, and Jongseong almost cries for eating something other than a pretzel that Sunoo had gotten for him the day before.

“Jay” you called his attention after a while. The two of you had just finished eating in silence and were now enjoying a glass of juice each, loathing the coffee that was the only drink they had had since arriving at the hospital. He looked in your direction, his eyebrows raised curiously at you “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” he answered quickly.

You pondered. There were a lot of things to ask, not only to him but to all of Jaeyun's friends. But at that moment, just one was enough.

“Why did Jaeyun hide this from me?” it was a simple question, perhaps, if it hadn't caught him by surprise. You noticed that Jongseong became a little more tense, taking a long sip of the juice as he placed the glass on the table between the two of you.

“It was to protect you” he said simply, wiping his lips and holding your gaze before speaking again. “You were the first person he got involved with, Y/n. I don't think I've ever seen Jake so scared in his life.”

It was silly for you to ask, but it still came out. Scared of what? Almost a whisper that, if it weren't for the two of you being the only ones there, Jongseong wouldn't have heard.

“Scared of what happened that day happening” he looked for a piece of already cut fruit, playing with the shreds of the peeled tangerine as he looked away “Scared of you being in constant danger and, I don’t know, hating him for having this life.”

“I hate it” you laughed softly, knowing how much of a lie that could be. “I don’t know, I’m confused.”

“I understand” Jongseong looked back at you. “I think this is something that’s up to you and him, but know that everything Jake has done so far has been to protect you.”

The door to the room opened slowly, you and Jongseong looking at the newly arrived sound and greeting the nurse again. She seemed a little more energetic than before when she entered the room a while ago. You and he got up from your seats, waiting for her to walk the entire room until she approached.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Jay,” she bowed slowly, greeting you as if she hadn’t seen the two of you in a while. You and Jongseong greeted her back, exchanging a few glances before looking back at the woman. “The doctor asked to let you know that Jake just woke up.”

Your eyes widened as much as the boy in front of you. You and he took a step forward, but he stepped back and turned to you.

“Go first. I’m sure Jake is asking for you.”

The nurse nodded as if confirming what he was saying. You felt like the toast and juice were almost coming back with the urge to vomit from being so nervous, but you were also anxious to be able to see Jaeyun again.

“Just follow me, miss” she said, giving you a small smile before calling you to follow her. You looked at Jongseong, silently asking if he could come with you. Even though you were safe now, it was hard to trust someone that much. The hallway to the rooms where Jaeyun was, along with the waiting room where you were, was filled with security guards and men who worked for the Sim mafia. Every time you remembered that, a chill ran down your spine. Everyone there knew you and knew who you were, Jaeyun had definitely talked about you. But what shocked you was that you didn't know all of them. At least you knew the names of his best friends and those closest to him over the last week, how could he remember the names of so many people like that?

"Anything, I'm outside, okay?" Jongseong called your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts when you realized that you were already in front of Jaeyun's room door.

Taking one last look at one of his best friends, you nodded slowly, unsure of what you would find behind that door. Of course, it was your Jaeyun. Their Jake. But it would be the first - and hopefully the only - time you would find him in a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath and controlling the sudden urge to cry, your hand grabbed the door handle and turned, your heart in your throat before entering the room.

Your eyes darted to Jaeyun's. It was the first thing you looked at when you entered the room. It was as if you were being hypnotized by him as you walked further into the room, walking slowly – because your legs were already shaking enough – and seeing that he didn't take his eyes off you either.

The first day you met him instantly came to mind. He arrived at the company very well dressed, his navy blue suit stood out so much that you knew you had never seen anything as elegant as that. Jaeyun had a perfect smile, was friendly to everyone and especially to you. He was polite, treated you like someone who held the position, and was respectful from the beginning. It was one of the reasons why you started to feel affection for him. It was a mutual respect between coworkers and it was certainly one of the criteria for accepting to have dinner with him the first few times.

Everything was always so natural between you and him. From the small, furtive glances during meetings, to the funny snorts and grimaces when some annoying would-be supplier started talking. The dinner conversations would go on for hours on end, even the subtle touches of his hand on yours when he offered to walk you home. After the two of you started dating in the last two months, it was as if everything was intensifying even more.

Jaeyun was loving towards you, overprotective and, above all, he gave you the security you needed about anything you were in doubt about. Whether it was between the two of you – because you didn't think you were good enough for him – or at work when someone still tried to put you down. He was always amazing, adding the daily dose of I love you now that he could shout to anyone that you were together.

“Hey” the weak voice took you out of your nostalgic thoughts, making you realize that you were already standing next to his bed. Jaeyun’s lips were chapped, his appearance a little pale and unkempt. But he was still so beautiful. He was still the most beautiful man you had ever met.

“Hey” you said back, your voice choked and the lump in your throat about to burst.

He had known your mannerisms even before you were together, but after he asked you to be his girlfriend, it seemed like Jaeyun knew you even more. It was then that he realized before you could even say anything, that your eyes were shedding cascades of tears.

“Sit here, please?” he asked, stretching his hand out as far as he could until he felt you holding it. Your fingers were trembling against his palm, taking a single step until you sat on the hospital bed, in the space that seemed to be reserved for you. Jaeyun didn’t have the strength, but he knew that your body was vulnerable enough that he made a slow movement and managed to pull you to lean against him.

“I’m going to hurt you…”

“No” he whispered, feeling your hands lean against his chest. Quickly wrapping the arm that had better mobility around your waist, the other one that still hurt from the injuries, Jaeyun decided to place his hand over one of yours that was against him. “It’s hurting me to be away from you.”

“Oh, shut up” the saltiness of your tears could already be felt against your lips, biting the lower one to keep from trembling in front of him. Jaeyun laughed, then grunted when a sharp pain hit his abdomen. “Jaeyun…”

“I’m fine” he was quick to try to reassure you, keeping your body close to his. “I just need you here with me.”

“I'm right here” you whispered. He slid the hand that was on yours, up to your chin and lifted your face to his. Leaning his forehead against yours, Jaeyun felt your panting breath hit his chapped lips. Your scent entered his nostrils and made his entire body relax. It was better than the medicine he had been taking since he entered that hospital.

“Great” he whispered back, slowly pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was so slow, even though you both were dying of longing for each other.

He wanted to take the time to feel your mouth press against his, the touch of your tongue massaging his and the fit of your mouths very slowly. Jaeyun had the memory of the last kiss you two shared, in his office room on the day you were kidnapped. It was the last time he could feel your mouth, your scent, have you close to him. That was why now, in the urgency of contact, he pressed his hand against your skin as he slid his fingers to the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss, not yet having the courage to separate your mouth from his or distance your faces. Feeling his warm breath against your mouth was calming you, in a way.

“I love you” he let out, that stuck in his throat making him even more anxious. Your eyes slowly opened to look at Jaeyun, the redness of his lips and the rosy color of his cheeks captivating you even more. “I love you so much” he said again, pulling your face closer to his and starting a new kiss.

Jaeyun wouldn’t say he was trying harder than he should by kissing you with a little more intensity. He remembered the doctor and nurse’s recommendations that he should make as little effort as possible, but the longing was so great that he couldn’t hold back. He needed to feel more and more of you. But he came back to reality when he felt the salty taste between his lips as he deepened a little more.

He didn’t need to be an expert or open his eyes to know that you were crying. He realized this not only from the salty kiss but when he ran his fingertips over your cheek again, drying the spot on the way to your skin.

“Babe…”

“I’m sorry, I—” you sobbed softly, pulling away and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Jaeyun would always think that seeing you like that would hurt more than the shot he took.

“Don’t apologize, love” he answered you “I’m the one who should apologize now. I’m the one who should explain everything…”

As his voice was soft, trying to calm your nerves, Jaeyun’s fingers still slid slowly over your skin to wipe away every tear trail that had formed there. You nodded in agreement, pulling away enough so that you could look into those eyes that you missed so much. To be able to record even more of the man’s features in front of you because, the last time you two saw each other, it hadn’t been the best memory.

“You need to rest now” your hand ran through Jaeyun’s dark hair, intertwining some between your fingers as you slowly moved it down to his face. “The boys will be here soon to see you.”

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips as he closed his eyes to feel your touch. The touch he knew he was addicted to since the first time he felt it.

“Okay” he knew he needed to rest, being anxious without hearing from you when he woke up had left him exhausted. Slowly shifting in bed, you leaned over to help him get more comfortable and stood up, standing next to him.

“Jaeyun?” calling his name, you heard him mumble something. A silent understanding that he was listening to you and that you could continue. So, without saying much, you leaned over to him, already standing next to the hospital bed to slowly place your lips on his once more. A kiss so quick and soft against his full lips. “I love you. So much.”

It was something he would never tire of hearing from you.

Sunghoon wanted to push that feeling of betrayal away from his chest. Never in his entire life had he felt that way. In the middle of his work, he knew what betrayal, deceit, and everything bad meant. But why was it eating away at him? Maybe because he had promised you, a month and a half ago, that he would take care of Jaeyun and keep him out of danger.

An argument – ​​and a week without talking to you – was the result of the conversation he had with Jaeyun about his entire life outside the office. You wanted to feel angry, end the relationship, and never look at him again. But at the same time, you wanted to see the effort he had put into finding you, putting himself in front of a bullet for you and almost dying because of it. Seeing the concern of his friends throughout the week as they all took care of you and made sure you were eating and feeling well. It wasn't a good thing to keep, but they were all adults enough. There was not much you could do but respect it.

Jaeyun's pleas for you to at least forgive him were endless, and after a long week of him sending you messages and showing up at your office looking like a puppy that fell out of the moving truck, you gave in. That man would do anything for you and that left no room for doubt. Mafioso or business partner, Jaeyun was willing to do anything to have you by his side and protect you from anything.

But you also needed to act on that, so you asked each of the boys to keep him out of harm's way. He could do trivial things, take care of business sitting quietly, without making much effort because, after all, the mafia was still his. You asked Sunghoon to be in charge of taking care of Jaeyun and preventing him from leaving the office or making any slightest effort.

He granted it. Sunghoon did that for the little time he had. A month and a half of banning Jaeyun from going out on small missions, from driving to warehouses with new cargo arriving, or collecting debts on rotten bar stools that they only needed to scare with a gun and a few punches.

But he didn't know that, a month and a half later, they would have Yunhee in the torture room in the basement of the mansion with Jaeyun with fists right on his jaw at every reminder of that day.

“Dude, that's enough" Sunghoon tried to pull him away, but Jaeyun pulled away. His face burning with rage and a few splashes of blood against his cheek. His fist was already covered in Yunhee's blood and he didn't even care about his clothes. Someone would wash them for him later.

“You thought you could hide, didn't you?" he laughed devilishly. With his hand clean of blood, he grabbed Yunhee's hair and pulled his head back, letting the man's frightened gaze penetrate his eyes flooded with rage “What were you thinking?"

“Jake…” Yunhee coughed, moaning and screaming as he pulled the man’s hair harder. The veins on his neck were visible.

Sunghoon, in the corner of the room, watched with some apprehension about his best friend’s actions. It was understandable that Jaeyun would act recklessly after he learned that Yunhee was alive and in hiding. After learning of Joseph’s death in the hospital, a week after he was discharged and went home, everyone began to wonder where Joe Fields’ right-hand man, his confidant, was. Yunhee had never shown up at the hospital, afraid that someone might catch him and kill him just like Jaeyun had ordered them to finish what he had started when he learned where his uncle was hospitalized.

He didn’t want to be next, but one careless mistake and Heeseung found him wandering around the city late at night. He wouldn’t need Jaeyun’s approval to put Yunhee in the car and take him to the mansion that early morning. Heeseung knew he would be applauded by his boss and best friend for this meeting.

“I—” Yunhee grunted as another punch from Jaeyun hit him, finally releasing the boy’s hair and letting his head fall to the side. With the amount of blood mixing with the saliva, he spat next to his body. A small pool of blood was already forming from the number of times he had done this “I didn’t mean to—”

Sim’s laughter interrupted him, echoing throughout the torturous room that was used for this kind of thing. Usually, Sunghoon or Jongseong did that job, but Jaeyun wanted to personally welcome Yunhee’s long-awaited arrival.

“Didn’t you want to touch my girlfriend? Didn’t you want to keep her tied up at my uncle’s request?”

There were countless questions he had to ask, even though he didn’t want to remember that day or know that those hands that were tied were the same ones that touched you. The same ones that held your body to tie you to the chair he found you in. Jaeyun felt a wave of fury rises throughout his body.

“You know… You know I obeyed your uncle, I—”

“You chose to do the wrong thing, man” Jaeyun said, waving to Sunghoon across the room to get something to clean his hand. His decision had already been made, so the job was also coming to an end. “But it’s a shame, you know? I liked you, Yunhee.”

“What— What do you mean, Jake?” he grumbled, his wide eyes bringing a bit of satisfaction to Jaeyun as he grabbed the piece of damp cloth to try – uselessly – to clean his hands.

“My men finished the job for me with Joseph still in the hospital.” Jaeyun walked over to Yunhee again, bowing to him and managing to connect the angry and dark look with the scared and empty look of the boy sitting and tied up. He gave a short smile, just a lift at the corner of his lips as he had the satisfaction of being in control of everything. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My… My turn?” he stuttered, the chill running down his spine as Jaeyun walked away. Taking steps back, but still keeps his eyes on him.

“Sunghoon” he called out. “Since he was so devoted to my uncle, his end will be the same.”

With a few words, Jaeyun walked past his best friend to leave the room. In time to hear Sunghoon cock the gun and Yunhee’s screams echo throughout the place. A shot rang out the same second he closed the door, and then the man’s screams stopped.

The job was done, Jaeyun could feel all the anger slowly dissipating because everything seemed to be getting back on track again.

“Jake” the voice in the hallway caught his attention, his gaze rising to see Jungwon walking towards him. He didn’t show any reaction of surprise because he already knew his friend, everyone knew this would happen. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but be horrified by the amount of blood Jaeyun had stained his body “You couldn’t be here, you have to take care of yourself.”

“I just needed—” he groaned, the pang in his stomach making him bend over slightly. Jungwon held him between his arms, the tip of his tongue itching to say I told you so.

“You could just ask, Sunghoon and Jay would take care of it” as he listened to the little lecture, he leaned on Jungwon to walk to the stairs at the end of the hallway.

He knew his friend was right. He could let his best friends take care of this at all costs, doing whatever he wanted with Yunhee before killing him. With each step he climbed with Jungwon by his side, a little realization hit him knowing that everything had come to an end. He worries about Joseph and Yunhee, no one would be able to hurt him and anyone he considered family anymore.

“Now stop trying, okay? Otherwise, I'll have to tell Y/n about this.” Jaeyun knew Jungwon would do it without thinking twice. So he laughed without much force, still leaning on his friend, when the two entered his office.

Jaeyun froze. The pain in his abdomen seemed to have disappeared the moment he connected eyes with you. There was your smiling figure, but it soon disappeared when your eyes passed over your boyfriend's body. Being supported by Jungwon, with blood everywhere and a slightly pained expression, not want to admit that the shadows of the wounds still haunted him.

I don't think you'll need to tell her, Jaeyun's gaze screamed about it at that moment.

“What…”

“I can explain” Jaeyun began as you stood up, completely forgetting what you were talking about with Sunoo and Jongseong at that moment. They were both probably trying to distract you to give Jaeyun time to do what he had to do, hurt someone for sure, by the way, he had appeared in the room at that moment.

“No” you stood up, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun the whole time, even though you felt everyone looking between you and your boyfriend.

“Honey, listen—”

“Jay, Sunoo” you turned to them, completely ignoring Jaeyun and what he had to say at that moment. “Thanks for the conversation.”

“Thanks for the candies, Y/n” Sunoo tried to smile, holding the large container you had brought.

Only then did Jaeyun realize. Today must have been the weekend because you were wearing casual clothes. Nothing like the usual office clothes he always saw you wearing. You were certainly waiting for him to sort something out with the boys so you could go to your apartment, eat the candies you tried to make the night before, and relax the whole weekend by his side. This would be the perfect day for you, but it certainly wasn't for him.

Avoiding Jaeyun and anything he was saying, you left the room and walked quickly through the hallways. Still a little lost inside that mansion, with the amount of doors and people walking around. But you knew where you had come in and how you should get out.

"Y/n, wait!" Jaeyun shouted, trying to run after you and ignoring the pain in his abdomen. That was nothing compared to the despair he was feeling when he saw you leave.

You wanted to wait, you wanted to listen to him like you did the last time. But the feeling of a lie lingered in your body and feeling betrayed, you knew your eyes were burning for that reason.

You swore that Jaeyun could just be lining up something, talking to his friends without trying. But no. While you thought you could surprise him and his friends by bringing him the candy that took your time and effort the previous Friday night, he was doing who knows what behind your back. The one thing you had asked him not to do.

“Baby, hey. Stop, I want to talk to you” he managed to reach you as soon as you reached the front door. The hand that held the doorknob was quickly removed by Jaeyun’s hands, who pulled you back to him and made your body turn towards him.

Your teary eyes were worse than death. He would rather die than see you like that, even though he knew he deserved it for lying to you.

“Please, I just need to leave.”

“Not like this” Jaeyun said “I won’t let you leave like this, mad at me.”

“You lied—” he leaned in and kissed your lips quickly, shrugging his shoulders and waiting for any reaction from you. A slap, a curse, anything. But he heard a soft sniff as he pulled away, watching you quickly look away from him.

“Look at me.”

“No. You’re covered in blood” your shaky voice made Jaeyun step back a little, slowly letting go of your arm.

“Then I’ll take a shower and you’ll come with me.”

He didn’t give you time to answer, much less for you to deny anything. Slowly pulling you back into the mansion, Jaeyun held your arm with the less dirty hand, heading towards his room in complete silence the whole way.

When you thought about accompanying him to his room, you were certainly supposed to be sitting on his bed waiting to be taken away. To wash all the dirt off your body and any trace of blood, no matter who it was. But Jaeyun's pleas for you to get in the shower with him, at least to wash his back and listen to him ramble on about everything that happened.

Maybe the conversation part was real, he did tell the details of everything. Hearing Yunhee's name while the steam from the hot water embraced you and Jaeyun in the middle of the shower was a mix of feelings. You remembered the man's face devilishly staring at you, laughing and saying things that weren't true. But at the same time, knowing that Jaeyun had avenged everything that happened left something inside you.

"You killed him…" your voice came out in a small whisper, your fingers stopped stroking your boyfriend's wet hair as you let some strands fall over his forehead.

He sighed, one of his hands falling to your waist and resting his fingertips against your skin. Now he could touch you without having your fearful gaze on him.

“I will kill anyone who even thinks of laying a finger on you, Y/n” his voice was serious, but he whispered each word as he leaned toward you. Jaeyun rested his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your skin hotter than the water falling from the shower at that moment “This is my way of protecting you by working with this kind of thing.”

There was no room for argument and you knew it. You also knew that you had every right to leave, not get involved with him anymore, and pretend that none of this had happened. But you knew that you couldn’t, that you didn’t want that. You wanted to be close to him, even though all of these things were new to your understanding.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, please” your pleas made him fall apart. Your tone of voice along with the look you were giving him could make Jaeyun give up on everything for a second, coming back to reality as soon as one of your hands touched his face.

It was addictive and calming at the same time to have your skin against his. Your fingers gliding along his cheek and going to his jaw, tracing the line to his lower lip. At that moment he closed his eyes, thinking about how lucky he was to have found you. How it was worth waiting, protecting you, and fighting for what you two had until that moment.

“I love you” Jaeyun would never get tired of saying it. He would shout it to the world if he could.

“I love you” you answered back, in a whisper, before leaning on your tiptoes to kiss his lips as your thumb fell back to his chin. Feeling the movement his jaw was making as he deepened the kiss, intertwining his tongue with yours and pulling you even closer to his body.

Jaeyun wished he had the superpower to hold you there, between his arms, and make you feel safe without having to distance yourself. Just the thought that you and he couldn't live together twenty-four hours a day made him anxious. You being in a corporate building while he stayed in the mansion for a while drove him crazy. Maybe you should move in with him, or he should move the company's office into the mansion, so the two of you could work together when he couldn't go to the building where he was still a partner.

“I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you” he whispered against your lips, placing small kisses on your lower lip before sliding his teeth over the fleshy part. You smiled slowly, agreeing with a small nod before resting your hands against his chest.

He was a work of art right in front of you, and you couldn't get used to how perfect he was. Every time your hand slowly moved down his skin, Jaeyun left small kisses on your lips, each one longer than the last. Until his fingers, trembling, passed over the small scar.

You didn't want to look away at that moment, your focus should have been on the kisses Jaeyun was still distributing across your mouth and chin, but that came back to your mind with fervor. Your eyes quickly darted down, your fingers stopped over the small mark where they had pulled out the bullet that had hit him. Involuntarily a breathless sigh escaped between your lips.

“Hey” Jaeyun called you, his hand resting on your waist, quickly rising to your chin to lift your face and make you look at him again. “Focus up here, okay?”

There was no way to be okay with the thought that he might not be there anymore. That it hurt him in a way you never thought you would see. And you didn't even want to see it anymore.

He kissed you again, a little more intensely this time. The goal was to make you forget what you had seen or at least get it out of your head at that moment, because he just wanted to enjoy it with you. The purpose of that bath was to make you not get mad at him, so Jaeyun would do his best.

While the battle of his tongue against yours took place, the dominance of the kiss taking hold as your lips danced against each other, he walked the few steps until he rested one of his hands against the wall and placed your back against the cold tile. You moaned against his mouth, making him smile at the reaction he had gained from you.

“Jae…”

“I want to make sure you forget anything bad for now” he whispered, sliding his mouth down to your neck, creating a path with the tip of his tongue until he reached your collarbone. He sucked your skin a little hard, and as soon as you responded with a moan, Jaeyun soothed the spot again with the tip of his tongue before running the tip of his nose over your goosebumps. Inhaling your characteristic scent mixed with the liquid soap you had applied a few minutes ago.

There was no way you could think of anything other than his lips on your skin and the way he positioned himself between your legs. Your hands quickly ran to Jaeyun's shoulders, seeking support in whatever was going to happen at that moment, you had no idea if he was going to tease you or what he was going to do. You just wanted to enjoy the moment.

“Y/n” he called your name, making your eyes quickly search for his. It wasn't hard to find the intensity of Jaeyun's gaze that was already staring at you in the same way. His forehead rested against yours, his hand slowly going to his hard cock and sliding between your folds.

“Shit” you cursed softly, knowing that the ease of Jaeyun's cock head sliding through your pussy was due to the amount of moisture you were, how wet you were, along with the water from the bath that made it easier. He knew exactly where to stimulate or tease you, giving good attention and the right amount of pressure to your clit when the head of his cock passed there.

Your hands ran up to Jaeyun's face, resting one on each side of his cheeks. The teasing of your clit didn't last long, he didn't want to waste time, so he took advantage of your wet pussy to slide down to your entrance. Without warning, he pushed his hips forward and shoved his cock into your pussy.

“Jaeyun” you moaned against his mouth as he pulled his face close to yours. Jaeyun pressed his nose close to yours when both of your faces were aligned with each other, sharing rapid breathing.

“I'll protect you from anything, love” he held his intonation so as not to moan in the middle of the sentence, starting to move his hips back and forth. Taking his cock out of your pussy to leave only the tip around your hole, penetrating deeply again until his cock reached its limit “To make sure you don't need anything else.”

“I just need you” your voice was a whisper, if he wasn’t so close to your face and focusing on your every movement and reaction, Jaeyun wouldn’t have heard what you had to say.

He smiled slowly against your lips, kissing you with the same slowness that his hips moved back and forth against your pussy.

With each slow and careful movement of Jaeyun, you felt your body heat up and press yourself even more against him. Feeling full with each deep but careful thrust of his cock inside you. A contrast to the persona you were getting to know from your boyfriend beyond what he had already shown you in the last few months. It was exciting to know that he would do anything for you, killing people who tried to hurt you, but at the same time being there. The most loving and slow sex you two had since you met.

As if he was afraid to go faster, to sink his cock into you and go all the way to your cervix and make you scream his name. Instead, Jaeyun had very fluid movements of his hips, hearing the sound of slapping the skin as his pelvis came into contact with yours. His cock was thrusting deep into you with slow movements, almost as if he wanted to tease you. But you wanted to feel him slowly entering, the prominent veins of his cock standing out against the velvety, warm walls of your pussy.

“I promise to always be here for you” Jaeyun pulled your body closer, your hand falling from his face to rest on his shoulder. As his hand cupped your neck and rested his thumb against the line of your jaw, “I promise—” he groaned as your pussy clenched around him. The sweet words along with the movements of his cock moving in and out of you were too much to handle. You were vulnerable and he seemed to be feeding it all. “Don’t squeeze me like that, baby.”

“I can’t…” you moaned as he thrust hard the only time since he put his cock inside you, as a small punishment as your pussy clenched around him again. You threw your head back, pressing it against the tile. Jaeyun wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling your face towards him and tilting it towards him.

“Eyes on me when you cum” he asked gently, but in a way that you couldn’t possibly answer while he was still thrusting his cock into you so slowly and precisely.

Your eyes were having trouble staying open as you stared at him, seeing your boyfriend’s dark orbs and the occasional moans he let out every time his cock bottomed out, nudging your cervix. You knew it was hard, especially with the firm way he was holding your throat and when his movements started to get more erratic.

“More… Faster, please” you begged, begging with teary eyes as Jaeyun tried not to give in to it. He wanted to go as slowly as possible, make love to you, and claim you even more than you already were his. But with your more than pornographic moan, he couldn't take it anymore. There was no way to stay still with that, encouraging him to go faster.

He lightly pressed his fingers against your throat, bringing his other hand to your waist to steady your body and start thrusting into you a little faster. The water between you two splashed and the sound of slapping skin became even louder than the moans you and he shared.

Jaeyun knew your body, he knew you were close to orgasm by the way your mouth was half open, letting the moans come out freely. The way your pussy sucked him when he stopped his movements for a few seconds just to hear you grunt, sliding your nails across his shoulders leaving half-moon marks against the skin.

Leaning forward and pulling your face towards his with his hand still on your neck, he joined your lips in a sloppy kiss. Drool dripping down the sides and lips messily slamming against each other, just trying to muffle any screams from your as he intensified his thrusts, going a little harder.

It didn't take long for you to feel your body falling apart. Jaeyun didn't have to do much to make it happen, just his existence alone would be enough to drive you crazy. You slid your teeth against his lower lip, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend's penetrating gaze the whole time as the knot in your stomach burst. The walls of your pussy squeezed him as you came, moaning Jaeyun's name like a mantra memorized by the heavens in your biggest and best orgasm.

He didn't last less than that, feeling his cock twitch and tremble against your pulsating walls as he released jets of hot cum, painting the inside of your pussy as he continued to thrust his cock into you. Staying strong in his last thrusts so that no fluid would be wasted while he still had your pussy wrapped around him. Pulsing and convulsing, your body trembling in his arms until you both came down from your climax together.

The long minutes that followed until you both recovered were slow and captivating. Jaeyun was careful as he pulled his cock out of you, whimpering along with you at the slight overstimulation of both of you.

Staying with his forehead against yours, he let his breathing calm down along with his heartbeat.

“I meant what I said” he whispered to you, his fingertips starting to get wrinkled as the time in the shower stretched on. But neither of you cared about that now “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“I know that” you replied, forcing your voice to sound firm after using all your strength to moan his name minutes ago. Your hands tried to soothe the skin on Jaeyun’s shoulders that had been abused by your long nails “I trust you with this, but…”

“But?” he encouraged you, pulling away a little so he could look at you better.

“But I want to protect you too, it’s not fair that you do this for me when—” your eyes quickly went to the small scar. Even if he had told you not to look, there was no way you could just forget “You sacrifice yourself to that extent.”

“I know, love” Jaeyun sighed, his lips slowly leaving a kiss on your forehead. “I promise to be more careful with this, okay?”

“Okay” you tried to calm yourself down, seeing the sincerity in the tone of his voice that he offered you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while Jaeyun rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I love you, Jake Sim” you said after a while, smiling against his skin as you left a kiss near his collarbone, making his body shiver.

Not even in Jaeyun’s best dreams would he hear you say that. Never calling him Jake, that name never being uttered by you so casually.

“I love you so much more, my love” he replied, pulling your face up to capture his lips in a quick kiss.

You knew that Jaeyun would keep taking risks if it meant keeping you safe. You knew he would only say that so you wouldn't worry and wouldn't be so mad at him if you saw him on another mission or going after such dangerous people again. But you also wanted him to know that with a mobster boyfriend, you could also learn a few things to protect him just as much.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[bandydear]

When Misty is evil it’s because it’s the logical thing to do, and if she’s going to do something that needs to be done she’s going to enjoy it to its fullest potential. With needlepoint and a playlist.

When Taissa is evil she’s all “your honour, my evil other half allegedly decapitated my dog as a sacrifice for my political career and ohhh my godddd really who cares”

When Natalie is evil she’s doing shots of ethanol listening to Johnny Cash Hurt bloodshot eyes saying “I’m a piece of shit. I’m a cockroach crawling around in filth. I should die but I’m too much of a coward”

When Lottie is evil she’s a manic giggling anime girl for about eight hours of chasing people through the woods with sharp objects then wakes up with an embarrassment hangover like yeah Charlotte rubbing brains all over your face did scare the hoes

When Van is evil she’s like “fuck dude. Shit man. Fuuuuuuck” but does it anyway

When Shauna is evil she really is bisexual Stalin. The meeting of a teen girl and a despot. Full fascist tactics because she thought you insulted her favourite Garbage t-shirt. The world’s most insecure cave lion.

However, when Mari is evil it’s purely for the love of the game

[arjudy224]

The Boys need help

Part 1- Alfred's new help

Alfred's New Help part 2

After a "random" attack on the Wayne family, the new maid may be more than what meets the eye.

Joker caresses the side of the young boy's face with a twisted smile. Tension spreads throughout his entire upper body. Dick notices how there is a slight shake in Damien's palms. After all this time, sometimes it is easy to forget how young Damien truly is. With his youthful round face and big blue eyes, Damien could fit in with your average middle schooler.... if you ignore the murder in his eyes.

"My Father used to say that-"

BANG!

The Joker crumbles to the ground surprising every member of the Wayne family. A small trembling figure is revealed slowly stepping out from behind the clown. Scanning the room for any other potential danger, Y/N reluctantly puts the safety back on.

"Are you guys okay?' Y/N's voice trembles before dutifully untying Bruce.

Five pairs of eyes stare at her in painful silence.

"Where did you get that?" Damien questions breaking the silence.

Making her way down the line, Y/N starts working on Tim's restraints next.

"Alfred stashed a few in case something like this happened. I never thought I would ever need it... Until a van full of clowns passed me on the highway this morning."

An unexpected smile appears on Damien's face. Jason and Dick share a long look. Jason shrugs. Bruce's unreadable gaze suddenly makes her defensive. Before untying Jason, Y/N kicks the Joker. A wheezy laugh echoes across the room. At the pure shock staring back at her, she defends "It's not like I killed him or anything. Have you guys never heard of stand-your-ground laws?"

Jason starts to chuckle to himself. Looking past the horrified reactions of his family to his unlikely savior, he flashes her a grateful smile. Patting her on the back, he says

"Well' I don't know about the rest of them, but I'm sure glad you were here. That was badass."

Sharing an unreadable look with Dick, it doesn't take very long for the rest of the family to snap out of their stupor. Tim and Damien team up to tie up the clown prince of crime while Dick gags him. Once the team realizes it wasn't a lethal shot, jokes run wild.

"Listen, I'm just saying you'll never see Y/N and Deadshot in the same room..." Dick jokes playfully shoving the girl.

"Please if Y/N's skill set resembled any vigilante, it would be Nightwing." Tim continues with a wink.

"Y/N would be great at bow staff, but I sincerally doubt that Nightwing could do colorguard." Jason jokes.

"Ladies. Ladies. You may be right, but my ass would not look as good in the uniform." She interjects, "Man's definitely got me beat there.

"Debatable," Jason comments under his breath.

Dick smacks him lightly on the arm.

Bruce offers the young girl a cold glass of water while steering her away from all the chatter. Y/n gratefully takes it.

"Are you alright?"

Y/n nods slowly.

Bruce's gaze meets hers. It's easy to see why people consider him a playboy. His eyes have the ability to make you feel completely and utterly seen.

"Thank you for protecting my family."

Melting under his earnest gaze, Y/N glances toward the 3 boys dragging Jason away from the Joker. Past the Billionaire heartthrob lies a wearied Father in constant fear of losing his family... again.

"I'm sorry I know you don't like guns. I didn't like the way he was looking at Damien."

Bruce sighs putting a hand on her shoulder. The wrestling brothers draw their attention back to the front of the room.

"I had to do it for old times' sake. Come on!" Jason protests with a smug grin as Tim and Dick drag him away.

Winking at Y/N, Jason weakly waves as the boys leave the room.

A parade of red and blue flashing lights interrupts the show.

Alfred slips into the room wordlessly.

"Master Bruce, Detective Gordan would like a word."

Y/N gasps in surprise.

"Where have you been?"

Alfred stays silent for a moment.

"Who do you think dealt with his goons?"

Batman and Gordon:

In the corner of the room watching the group of young men teasing Y/N, Batman and Gordan exchange glances.

Gordon cracks a smile.

"Seems like a good kid." Gordan

Batman stays silent observing the interactions unfolding before them.

"She has impeccable marksmanship for someone who has never been trained." Batman comments.

Gordon raises an eyebrow. Taking a sip of his coffee, he pauses.

"Are you insinuating something?"

"...No. It's an observation."

Tag list: @jjsmeowthie

[velvetydream]

꒰ : ♠️ [ Got a fur coat, so I make it purr - 성화 ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

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Pairing : Dom! Seonghwa x Fem! Sub! Reader Summary : Watching Seonghwa film the Matz MV with that tattoo on his neck, that fur coat and his slicked back hair did something to you. Word count : 4K Words Genre : Pure filthy detailed smut with little plot Smut content : DomSub Dynamic, Dirty Talk, Degrading, Praising, Blowjob, Insults (Slut, bitch, cockslut, cumslut), Mommy Kink (Reader to Seonghwa), Petnames (Princess, darling, baby, good girl, kitten, love, doll, dear), Nipple play (F receiving), Teasing, Slight chocking, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation (F receiving), Comming mutiple times (F), Fucking raw (Wrap it up people), Comming inside a/n : The man he is.. Istg.. That MV did something to me, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were phenomenal 😩 Disclaimer : This is purely fiction and in no way supposed to dispict how Seonghwa is in real life. Please skip and block if you don't like it.

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It bothered you.

It bothered you how hot he looked in that stupid coat, with his stupid hair and that stupid fake 'MATZ' tattoo on his throat. How you wished to adorne that exact throat with hickeys and bitemarks, making sure everyone knew he was yours.

"So.. Hwa is doing pretty amazing isn't he?" Hongjoong stood beside you now, watching Seonghwa film one of his parts of the music video. Why did he have to mention it? Of course, he was doing amazing, more than amazing, and that stupid smirk of his he was showing to the camera. And after seeing them blindfolded in that car and being tied to those chairs, it was over for you, pressing your thighs together tightly. "Yeah, he's doing a really good job, the theme suits him." He nods as you two continue watching Seonghwa before he gets called over, and they switch, Seonghwa coming over to you and snaking his arms around your waist, smiling down brightly at you now.

"How was I? Was it okay?" It was obvious he was a bit nervous about his performance, smiling up at him softly pushing a strand out of his face. "You were more than okay Hwa, you were so amazing! The MV will be awesome!" Beaming up at your boyfriend now, his smile becomes even brighter, hiding his face in your neck, making you giggle till you hear a soft yawn. "Awe is my baby tired already?" Carding your fingers softly through the part of his non-braided hair, his breathing soft as he hugs you to his body, the fur coat he was wearing warming you up slightly in the cold November breeze.

"How long do you think the recording will take today?" Shrugging his shoulders softly, his head raised to look over to Hongjoong, who was now filming his own solo takes; it was afternoon already, and everyone had been up and filming for many hours already. "Probably not much longer. Hongjoong is almost finished, and then we'll continue tomorrow." Nuzzling his face back into your neck now, his arms hold tightly onto you, while your fingers move to play with the hair of his nape. A little bit sad on the inside that he seemed so tired already, you had hoped for some little fun at home but he'll probably just want to cuddle and sleep. "You staying over today?" Mumbling into your neck now, it tickled a little bit, before nodding and assuring him you'd stay over. "I missed you, we've been so busy lately.." A sigh leaves Seonghwas lips now, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, making the need in you grow even more and send heat to your core, that man was doing the most without even knowing he was.

"And cut! Good work everyone! You all did amazing! See you tomorrow to finish!" The director shouts as Hongjoong comes over to the two of you. "Let's go home and get a good night's sleep!" Hongjoong shouts, making everyone cheer, even Seonghwa raising his head now and cheering. Of course, you'd probably have to wait for Seonghwa to sleep before retreating to the bathroom quickly to take care of that growing need in your core. Moving into the van, Seonghwa leans his head onto your shoulder, that thick fur coat now laying over your legs to keep you two warm, Hongjoong in the front talking to their manager. "You wanna watch a movie before we sleep or something?" Seonghwa looks up to you now, making you ponder for a second before nodding. "Sure let's watch something." Pressing a kiss to his temple now before the van finally came to a stop after half an hour, arriving at the apartment complex Ateez was living at. "Goodnight you two, see you tomorrow!" Hongjoong waves you two goodbye as he exits the elevator while you two go one more up.

"Hwa! You guys are back early!" San shouts from the living room, looking up from the video game he and Mingi were playing. "Yeah, we started rather early, I'm tired though, and we have another day of filming tomorrow." The coat was in your arms now as you watched Seonghwa stretch his arms over his head, his back muscles flexing through the thin satin shirt; he was truly trying to kill you at this point. "Awee we hoped you'd be up for some dinner!" Mingi pouted now while Seonghwa declined, apologizing to them, telling them how he'd just want to relax a bit with you before sleeping. "Alright, we'll probably be gone in half an hour then, Woo and Yunho come along too," San tells you two, before turning back to the game.

Following Seonghwa to his room now, placing the coat over his chair, eyes set on the animal crossing lego set mid-build on his desk, before you feel his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder now. "We need to build a set again together; I miss spending time with you like that or playing animal crossing together.." Pouting now as he thinks of the time he wasn't able to spend with you recently, making you chuckle. "You big baby, you don't see me for a week and become all pouty and sad; how does Hongjoong keep up with you, hm?" Giggling at his expression now as you turn around in his arm, cupping his face softly in your palms, watching Seonghwa close his eyes in contentment. "Who can blame me? I didn't see the love of my life for a whole week, didn't get to kiss her, didn't get to hold her while I sleep.." Pressing many little kisses on your face now, you can't help but giggle, trying to push him away jokingly but his grip on you was too strong, his lips finally meeting yours.

"Get changed, I'll quickly grab something to drink and snack for us." Leaving the room now, you let out a sigh, squeezing your legs together softly. "Why does he always have to be such an angel.. I can't even be mad.." Starting to strip out of your clothes now, your bra soon joins the floor at last, leaving you in only your panties while rummaging through the Seonghwas closet in search of a good sleeping shirt before something pops into your brain. Eyes slowly traveled over to the fur coat Seonghwa had worn the whole day. Taking slow steps over to his desk, your fingertips graze the soft material as you run them over the brown coat. Another glance over your shoulder before grabbing the coat. Quickly, the coat was over your shoulders as you watched yourself in the mirror, giggling to yourself; it was already huge on Seonghwa and even bigger on yourself.

"Princess, we only had normal coke, no zero, or do you want somethin'-" Seonghwa entered the room again, looking down at the coke can in his hands, before looking up and meeting your eyes through the mirror. He was quiet. You quickly pull the coat closer around you to hide yourself before turning around to Seonghwa, his eyes following your every movement like a predator. "C-Coke is fine!" Squeaking out the answer now, your cheeks a deep red. It's not like Seonghwa never saw you naked before, he had many times on many different occasions, some innocent and some.. not so much. "Forget the coke, I found something else I want to snack on." With a smirk, he locked the door; Mingi and San were probably gone by now to eat dinner, but Seonghwa always acted cautious, just in case. Stalking over to you now leaving the can by the door, his whole body hovers over you; he was so freaking tall, staring down at you with a grin now. The grillz were gone now, but that damn tattoo was still on his throat, and his smokey eye makeup made his eyes appear even darker. "H-Huh?" Looking up at him confused now, he said he was tired? What changed his mind so quickly? But you got the answer for that with his next sentence.

"So beautiful in my coat hm~?" His hand was softly caressing your cheek right now, but the look in his eyes told you this would be anything but a soft night. Seonghwa was a duality in person; once he was soft in bed worshipping you through the whole night; in others, he was rough, degraded you, and made you cry tears of pleasure. "Yeah.." Your voice was shaking slightly making Seonghwa chuckle, leaning down now for a kiss. His lips were soft but desperate, his tongue soon licking softly over your lower lip; opening your mouth slightly, his tongue barely grazes yours. He hated messes, and the same goes for his kisses; they were passionate and breathtaking but never messy; he hated seeing people literally shove their tongue in their partner's mouth, so he rather opted for teasing you and leaving you breathless afterward. "On your knees, darling~" He whispers, and immediately you fall to your knees, looking up at him with doe eyes. "So obedient, despite being a little slut and rubbing those thighs the whole day at the set to ease that heat from your crotch hm~? Didn't think I would notice? So desperate for me, little slut~" He smirks down at you, his hand softly caressing your cheek, before shoving two of his fingers into your mouth, immediately sucking on them, trying to be the good girl he wants you to be.

Seonghwa always knew what got you going, he was such an attentive lover, always knowing what you needed. And right now, you needed him to ruin you, and he definitely would.

"Show me how bad you want me to ruin you, baby, you know how~" His smirk only grew as your slightly trembling hands reached over to his pants, sitting up on your knees now so your face is one level with his hips, you slowly start to open the belt and continuing on to his jeans. Slowly lower them to his knees, already seeing the bulge in his boxers and the little wet stain of precum, looking up at Seonghwa for permission now. "Good girl, go ahead, be nice and you'll be rewarded~" Looping your fingers on the waistband of his boxers now, you slowly lower them down his dick springing free, precum glistening on the pinkish head. Your hands leave his clothes as they slowly inch up now, wrapping around him and giving his length a few pumps, watching his face contort in pleasure as he throws his head back slightly and lets out a low groan, his mouth agape. Seonghwa always looked so pretty when you pleasured him. Lowering your head now, you give the tip slow kitten licks, before sucking the head slightly into your mouth, tongue pressing against the underside. "O-Oh fuck darling..!" His hand was grabbing your hair softly now as moans spilled from his pretty plump lips, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth.

Bobbing your head up and down his length now, while softly holding onto his thighs, Seonghwas hand still gripping your hair while pants and low moans leave his mouth alongside vulgar words. "So good for me.. So fucking good..!" His dick was throbbing in your mouth, indicating that he was close, but before he could come, he pulled you off of his length, cheeks red as he looks down at you. Watches your swollen lips shine with spit and precum, tugging your chin up as he leans down to give you another kiss. "Get on the bed baby~" Taking off his pants now, he watches you stand up and about to take the coat off, making him groan in disapproval. "Keep that fur coat on baby, I want you to wear nothing but that when I'm done with you." He groans, slowly unbuttoning his shirt now and letting it slip to the floor; the only thing left on him are the gold chains.

"Are you sure? It might get dirty, and you'll have to wear it again tomorrow!" You look at him, worried now, making him smirk at you, chuckling lowly when your eyes meet his bare face, and your cheeks blush a deep red. "It's fine, baby, I'll wash it after I'm finished with you because it will definitely get dirty~" With a slight shove to your shoulder, you land on the bed now, staring up at your lover. It was so hot when he acted so dominant, he was always dominant, but more often than not, a soft dom, so you savored him being this mean and manhandeling. "Look at my little slut, won't you be nice for Mommy and let me ruin you hm~?" Seonghwa was hovering over you now, his hand caressing your cheek yet again, rubbing away some spit from your chin from before. "Please, Mommy, ruin me.." You moan out to him; you were desperate for him; it was insane what an effect he had on you.

"If you beg so nicely, how can I say now?" Lips were wandering down your throat and to your collarbone now, leaving hickeys and bitemarks on his way down till he reached your soft mounds. His right hand slowly sneaks up the side of your body, his fingertips softly grazing your skin, making goosebumps erupt before his hand finally reaches your chest. Feeling his hand on your chest now, a quiet moan left your lips, watching him kneed the soft flesh, watching it slightly spill between his fingers. Lowering his head down now while keeping his eyes on you, teasingly licking over your left nipple, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure, before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, enjoying the pleasured sounds and heavy breaths you were making. Soon he switched the sides, his teeth slightly grazing the right bud now, making your back arch, before sucking it into his mouth again. Your body felt like it was on fire already, the heat that was collecting in your core throughout the whole day unbearable by now. "Mommy, please.. Please make me feel good!" Looking up at your face now, watching the crystal tears rim your eyes made Seonghwa chuckle. "Begging so nicely for me my little kitten, let me make you feel good~"

Kisses were now being placed on his way down, pressing an extra few kisses on your stomach before slowly reaching where you needed your lover the most, before he moved away and kissed up and down your thigh. Crying out now as your body thrashes from the need to be pleased. "Mommy~ Please stop teasing I need you!" Moaning out to him, a few tears run down your cheeks from pure sexual frustration. It has been over a whole week since you last saw and got touched by Seonghwa and now he was teasing the shit out of you. "Be patient slut; you know exactly impatient bitches don't get what they want." He growls out, his hand coming to rest around your throat as a warning, putting slight pressure on it, making you gasp. "I-I'm sorry Mommy! I-I won't be impatient, I'm a good girl!" You cry out, wanting so badly to be good for him. "Oh I know you are baby, that's why you'll get rewarded, you've been so obedient tonight~"

A loud moan leaves your lips as you feel Seonghwas finger teasingly glide over your ruined panties. They've probably been soaked since you saw Hwa today for the first time in the exact coat you're wearing right now. "So wet already? What a little slut, I bet you were soaked even while talking to Hongjoong today~" Smirking as your body trembles at his words, desperate moans leaving your lips. Feeling him slowly pull the panties down your legs now, before he lets them fall to the ground, watching your glistening folds in awe. "So gorgeous, so wet and pretty and all for me~" He moans, as his finger softly slides through your folds to gather some wetness, before lightly circling your clit. Your back arches off the bed now as load moans spill from your red lips, eyes shut. The pleasure was overwhelming, you were probably not going to last for very long. "Your body is so responsive today, is it because I wasn't there to please you for a week? I bet those tiny fingers of yours can't reach that spot you love." With that he shoves two of his fingers knuckle deep into your core, hitting the mentioned spot immediately. "Y-Yes, Mommy! O-Only yo- Fuck..! You can reach that spot..!" The fingers moving in and out of your core now were making nasty wet noises but it only turned you on even more, opening your eyes to watch his fingers get coated by your slick. Legs were slowly trembling now as your walls started to tighten around his fingers; Seonghwa knew what that meant; you were close. Reaching his other hand down now and with just a few tight circles to your clit you came. Comming on his fingers as your body arches off the bed, high pitched moans rolling from your tongue.

"So gorgeous, just look at you coming all over my fingers~" Watching his shining fingers now, he closes his eyes as he takes them into his mouth, moaning around his in your slick-covered digits. "I think I need more of this, you taste to divine my love~" Moaning out, he looks down at your cunt as he lowers his body to lay on the bed as you slightly shake your head, it would be too much, you knew it, you always got so sensitive after your first orgasmn. "Love what's the safe word?" Looking down at Seonghwa, he was back to his soft and caring self for a second, making sure you had a way to tell him if it got too much. "Bunny.." You mumble softly, making him smile, leaning up again to plant a soft kiss on your lips, tasting yourself on him. "Use it when it gets too much, but I know you can take it~" He murmurs against your lips, nodding as he settles down between your legs again, his eyes darkening after making sure you were alright.

Eyes cast down at your cunt now, he gives it a long lick from down up to your clit, before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. Arms circling around your thighs now, holding them open and making your butt stay on the bed as moans of overstimulation stumble from your lips. Seonghwa truly knew how to use his tongue; it was always heaven when he ate you out. His tongue was lapping at your clit softly, circling it and rubbing from side to side, soon pushing two of his fingers inside of you again. At this point, you were sure your voice would be hoarse by tomorrow with how loud you were moaning. "You're doing so well for mommy, letting me feast on you~" Nodding at his words, you were barely able to comprehend his words right now. Noticing how your orgasmn was creeping up on you quicker than before. "I-I'm comi-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you came around Seonghwas's fingers a second time, feeling him pull them out very quick and lapping up your cum, moaning against your cunt which shot vibrations through your whole body.

Panting heavily, your eyes were closed as Seonghwa slowly moved above you, smirking down at you, pushing some strands of sticky hair out of your face. "My pretty doll, so good for me, now let me fuck you well, and we can finally rest, hm~" Tears were pricking your eyes from overstimulation, but Seonghwa knew that if it got much, you would use the safeword and you knew he would immediately stop and take care of you. "Please, Mommy. Fuck me, fuck me like a good little toy!" You cry out for him, arms reaching out making him chuckle. He loved how obedient you were, the perfect little darling, always trying your best to please him. "If you ask so nicely, of course, I will, Mommy will use you like the little cockslut you are~" Aligning his dick with your entrance now, due to your multiple orgasms it was so easy for him to slip in, both of you moaning out from him slowly pushing into you before he finally bottoms you out, giving you some time to adjust.

"Such a good girl, taking me so well, will you let Mommy come in you? Claim you? Paint your walls with my cum?" The words made your eyes roll back, along with the first thrust of his hips, seeing white dots from the pure pleasure your body was feeling. "Please, Mommy, come in me! Use me as your cumslut! Please!" Your brain was by now on standby, with only one thought in your mind and that was having Seonghwa fill you up. His thrusts were sharp, making your body bounce with every thrust of his hips; watching him sit up slightly now as you felt him push your knees to your chest before sinking back inside even deeper. Like this, you were not going to last very long.

"Fuck princess, you're so tight, like you were made for me and only me!" Seonghwa groans as his hips hit yours at a rapid pace, soon growing sloppier and sloppier, knowing he was close. "Come for me darling~" He whispers in your ear as he thrust a deep thrust and circles your clit lightly, back arching as you come around him, with the contracting of your walls Seonghwa came with a few more thrusts, spilling his seed deep in your core, letting your legs down as his body rests on yours, both of you panting heavily.

"Are you fine my love? Was too much?" Back to his lovely self, Seonghwas eyes hold nothing but pure love for you. Shaking your head, you assure him you are fine and that he was amazing. Nodding, he slowly pulls out, watching his cum ooze out of your hole, making the man moan out loud. "How I wish I could clean you up right now or, even better, push my cum back inside and fill you up again, but that's for another time; let's clean you up; I'll be back in a second." Standing up, he grabs a pair of sweatpants as he leaves for the bathroom, cleaning himself up quickly before coming back with a wet and dry towel in hand, sitting down beside you again, and carefully cleaning your body. Making sure to be extra careful with your core to not make you uncomfortable, helping you stand up as he cleans you more, before pulling the messed up coat away from the bed; luckily, it helped the bed stay clean. Turning to his closet quickly, he grabs one of your clean panties and one of his shirts, helping you slip both on, before telling you to lay down. "I'll quickly put this into the washer, and then I'm back, my love." A soft kiss was pressed to your lips as you lay down while he left the room with the cost in his hands.

Soon arms were hugging you close to a warm chest from behind. "You were amazing dear, thank you." Turning around you look up at your lover with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I have to thank you, you took such great care of me." He lets out a sigh. "Not too rough?" Shaking your head now, you cuddle up to him, telling him how this was perfect and you couldn't have wished for anything else. "Let's sleep for now, my love; we're probably both exhausted now and still got some filming tomorrow." He murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before you fall asleep in the arms of your lover. You had to say that Seonghwa was the best lover you could ever ask for; he took such amazing care of you and pleased you in just all the right ways; sometimes you wonder how you ever deserved this wonderful person.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[makeyuomine]

written in the stars // part 1

Summary: (Y/N) was hoping for a quiet evening under the stars at the Griffith Observatory — a chance to clear her mind. But something shifts when she spots Harry, a graduate student in Planetary Science, during the planetarium show. What begins as a few curious glances soon turns into lingering conversations, shared stargazing, and a growing connection neither of them saw coming.

Tropes: Slow burn, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, academic/nerdy bf x grounded gf

Photo Credits: Pinterest

Author’s Note: Hi readers ⭐️ This is a work of fanfiction inspired by the public persona of Harry Styles. All characters, events, and scenarios are entirely fictional and are not intended to reflect real-life individuals, situations, or relationships. This story was written purely for entertainment and creative expression — nothing here is based on real events.

Also please note this is my first time writing a fanfic in literal years, so I’m a little rusty.

Thank you so so much for taking the time to read. I hope you all enjoy.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

(Y/N) had grown up with the Griffith Observatory practically in her backyard, but it felt brand new tonight. She had decided to attend a showing at the planetarium that evening.

Maybe it was the mist drifting in from the hills, softening the sharp lights of Los Angeles like a veil. Or perhaps it was how everything had started feeling a little off lately—like her life had tilted half a degree on its axis, except no one had noticed. She wasn’t looking for an answer tonight, just a reason to keep going.

The planetarium dome smelled the same as it always had—clean, slightly metallic, like old projectors and cool air. She chose a seat in the center row, her favorite spot since childhood. When the stars would swirl and expand across the ceiling, it felt like she was floating.

"I should’ve gotten high first," she muttered under her breath.

(Y/N) adjusts herself in her seat, getting comfortable. A few seconds later, someone slid into one of the seats beside her.

Not right beside her, but close enough to notice.

She glanced over, expecting some bored couple or a tourist with a camera.

The man beside her was quietly silencing his phone, settling in for the show. He sat alone, entirely absorbed in his own world—and looked absolutely, maddeningly gorgeous.

He wore black jeans, scuffed Vans, and a button-up shirt, with a navy blue cardigan draped casually over his shoulders.

His hair fell in loose, tousled waves near his collar—like he'd been running his fingers through it all day without realizing. A soft leather notebook rested on one knee, a pen poised in his hand, like he was treating the show more like a study session than a casual outing.

He noticed her looking.

"You don’t strike me as someone who’s here for an Instagram post," he whispered, a half-smile playing at his lips.

(Y/N) arched a brow. "And you don’t strike me as someone who’s here for fun."

"That's right," he laughed, offering a hand. "I'm Harry."

She shook it. "(Y/N)."

There was a pause, the kind that crackled with the promise of more.

“I'm a grad student at the university here,” he said, eyes flicking up to the domed ceiling. "I study Planetary Science."

Her brows lifted. "That's amazing. So you do this for a living?"

"Well," he said, shrugging modestly, "I try to make sense of celestial chaos. Planets colliding. Moons forming. Rings collapsing into dust. Romance, really."

(Y/N) smiled and raised her eyebrow. "That’s your idea of romance?"

"Well, what's yours?"

Her eyes met his, lingering a second too long.

"I... I don't know, actually."

She felt slightly flustered. (Y/N) didn't expect to be talking about romance, let alone being asked what she considered to be romantic.

"I'm sure you do. We’re alive in the blink of cosmic time, and somehow, here we are."

The lights dimmed.

The dome came alive with light—stars unfurling in spirals and flares above them. (Y/N) tilted her head back, chest rising and falling slowly. She found herself unable to focus on the show—despite having seen it more times than she could count. Her thoughts kept drifting to the handsome grad student beside her, and the way he managed to make astronomy feel like poetry.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the universe had timing. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all chaos.

Next to her, Harry was silent. Still.

He watched the stars with quiet intensity, occasionally scribbling notes into his notebook. How he managed to write anything in the dim light, she had no idea—but she couldn’t look away. There was something about him that felt effortlessly poetic, like he belonged to the stars he was studying.

Sensing her watching him, Harry turned his head.

And when she turned—drawn by the same invisible thread that had pulled her to come here alone, he looked away, like he’d been caught in something intimate.

The narrator’s voice filled the dome again. Soft, reverent.

"Venus spins backwards, did you know that? Her sun rises in the west and sets in the east. No one knows exactly why, but she defied gravity and expectations."

She.

(Y/N) swallowed. She wasn’t sure if it was the narrator's words or the way Harry tensed, just a little, as if he felt them too.

When the show ended, the crowd shuffled out in a hush, like worshippers leaving a chapel. Outside, the night was velvet and full of echoes. The Observatory loomed behind them, glowing like a crown on the hillside.

She lingered at the edge of the terrace, arms crossed, watching the smog-shrouded city glitter below.

Harry joined her quietly.

"You didn’t ask why I came alone," she said.

"I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would."

(Y/N) turned to look at him and chuckled, "That’s surprisingly respectful for someone who called planetary destruction romantic."

He grinned, then grew more serious. "Why did you come?"

She hesitated. Then: "Everything’s changing lately. People, plans. It’s like…I don’t recognize anything I used to count on."

He nodded slowly. A few seconds passed before he spoke up, "Sometimes I look at Jupiter’s Great Red Spot and think about how it’s a storm that’s been raging for centuries. Longer than any of us will live. But even that’s starting to fade."

"Hm, is this your version of a pep talk?"

"I’m just saying," he smiled, his voice softer now, "even the most chaotic of things can’t last forever."

She didn’t mean to stare at him again. She didn’t mean to want more.

But she did.

He was brilliant and magnetic and too much for the moment she was in. But he’d made her feel something—for the first time in months.

They stood together in silence, the kind that felt less awkward and more like a pause the night was holding its breath through.

(Y/N) stared out at the city lights, scattered like fallen stars across the hills. Beside her, Harry did the same. When he wasn’t looking, she stole quiet glances—drawn to how composed he seemed, how effortlessly he carried himself, like he belonged in some other era.

After a long breath, Harry pulled out his notebook and jotted something down, his brow furrowed in thought.

“I should get going,” he said finally.

He tore a small slip of paper from the notebook and held it out to her—edges rough, his number written in a looping, deliberate hand.

“In case you ever want to talk stars again,” he said. Then, after a beat, his mouth curved with mischief. “Or chaos.”

(Y/N) took the paper, fingertips brushing his.

“It was really nice meeting you, (Y/N),” he added, extending his hand with that same steady warmth.

She shook it, and for a second, neither of them let go.

“Call me,” he said, his voice low as he took her hand, brushing a soft kiss against her palm.

He let her hand slip from his, the touch lingering just a little too long. She stood there, utterly speechless, only able to offer a small nod and a shy smile.

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

She watched him go, lost in the sea of people, but something told her—he wouldn’t be gone for long.

And somehow, she knew she would stay with him, too.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A/N: Thank you to everyone that took the time to read the first post of Written in the Stars! Please let me know your thoughts. Also make sure to drop any recommendations for other one shots, blurbs, etc.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[owuwi]

AVA STARR.ᐟ

➤ ava starr x gn!reader hcs

.ᐣ after the events of ant-man and the wasp, ava basically forces you to adopt her.

⤷ cw: pure fluff.

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── .✦ ava who felt a connection with you ever since she saw you with scott lang, hank pym, and hope van dyne, a connection she had never experienced in her miserable life yet was eager to explore it. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who thought of you the minute she got away from the cops but kept her distance, not wanting to accidentally attract any unnecessary attention to your location—how did she get your location? don't ask—. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who said 'fuck it' and immediately went looking for you after the blip, heart pounding at the thought of you disappearing like half of the population. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who shamelessly waited for you inside of your apartment for hours—sitting on your couch, in the dark, shaky hands on her lap—. it didn't take long before the girl realized her lack of a proper plan, but it was too late to back down and she just wanted to make sure you were okay. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

after one long day trying to find your friends, you came back to your apartment with the strangest sensation on your body—what made you so special? why did you have to be the one to remain?—. your thoughts were interrupted as you turned on the light and were met with the sight of the familiar girl sitting like an abandoned pet.

"jesus! a-ava?" you exclaimed before hesitantly closing the door behind you, trying to act as if you weren't slightly scared by her sudden appearance. "hi..." she simply mumbled out before quickly standing up, her hands tightly holding onto the sleeves of her sweater.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you questioned her hesitantly, again, not knowing how she could react. even if you kept contact with her, you never really thought you'd see her again—especially not in your apartment.

her eyes roamed everywhere and they couldn't settle on your face, her lips parting for a mere second as if she wanted to say something yet nothing came out. you understood her silence and, with a sigh, you accepted your new... roommate.

── .✦ ava who clearly had no intentions of leaving you but felt anxious about how you felt with her presence. you didn't seem to show any signs of being uncomfortable with her and she took that as a good thing, though it was obvious to her how curious you were about why she wanted to stay with you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who felt a warm feeling in her chest as you offered her your room, a sense of normativity settling within her as she finally had an actual room to sleep in. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who felt the need to check up on you at nights. she would silently phase into the living room and simply stare at you—praying you wouldn't wake up and find her in such a creepy state—. it always relieved her seeing the way your chest rose and fell as you breathed, the way you looked so relaxed in your sleep. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who decided to make herself useful as quickly as possible. she was used to helping others and receiving nothing back—but you were different; you were helping her out despite her having nothing to offer you in return. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who found comfort in making food. she was passionate about it and was really good, and she, surprisingly, didn't burn down your apartment the first time she made dinner for the two of you. seeing you enjoy what she cooked made her feel so many things. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who, almost daily, woke you up in the middle of the night thanks to the loud screams provoked by her haunting nightmares. in her dark dreams, she felt as if she was on fire—every single cell in her body burned just like it used to as she was forced to re-live the horrors she did. the pain used to be a reminder of who she was, yet the blood on her hands was something that was never going to fade away. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who allowed you to calm her down; allowed you to see her in such a vulnerable position. she felt something change in her every single time you helped her—you knew about the bad parts in her but you still chose to give her the support she desperately needed. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who always tried to act as casual as possible the mornings after, not wanting you to think differently of her. she had troubles living 24/7 with someone else and it was noticeable, even with her usual awkward, weird behavior. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who had troubles understanding personal space. she didn't like being touched but she liked touching people—it was strange but it made sense to her—, so you had to get used to having the slightly off-putting girl glued to you and following you around at all times. truth be told, she didn't mind those small moments where your hands would graze against her exposed skin, but she wasn't ready to admit it. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who laughed a little too loud at your jokes—even if they weren't funny. she couldn't help herself; maybe she did it because she was so utterly in love with you and she didn't know how to show it. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who felt confused due to how much emotions she experienced whenever she was with you since it was something she wasn't used to. she phased a lot when she was with you, usually when you made her feel flustered or shy. she didn't feel pain when she phased anymore—a weird feeling settled in her stomach instead, her whole body shivering at the mere thought of you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who expressed how she felt for you rather quickly thanks to how poor her social skills were. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"i like you..." her calm voice you had grown accustomed of broke the silence between the two of you, your body freezing as her words reached your ears.

ava was blunt—often spoke without really thinking what she was saying—so it wasn't uncommon to hear something that could so easily get misunderstood leaving those pretty lips of her. still, her words surprised you.

"i like you, too..." you replied some moments later before shifting on the couch so you could see her better, smiling at the sight of her fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. clearly, you hadn't understood the type of liking ava meant.

"not like that i—... i like you..." she quickly said, yet her sentence sounded more like a question rather than a statement. "i feel weird with you—a good type of weird, though..." she confusedly added, fingers now twirling the tips of her hair as she bit back a smile.

she was adorable and it took all the self control in your body to not let her know how you cute you thought she was. "i like you, too. and we can explore those feeling together, if you'd like..." you told her, your hand slowly moving towards her free one—your palm gently resting over the top of her hand.

── .✦ ava who immediately stole all your hoodies the moment the two of you started dating. she liked wearing layered clothes because it made her feel solid, so having the reminder that she was now 'normal' while getting to smell your scent was like heaven to her. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who loved when you did her hair. she never really took a lot of care of it so it was nice not having it tangled. the feeling of your hands running oh so delicately through her locks never failed to make her relaxed, all the tension in her shoulders disappearing completely. the look of surprise on her face after you were done styling her hair was one you could never get tired of—even when you styled it in the pigtails she used to wear, she still thought of it as different because it was your creation—. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who started calling you baby one day and never stopped. she used to think it was dumb—you had a name, why not use it?—but it all changed once the pet name slipped past her mouth without her realizing. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who liked drawing, especially drawing you. she had a bunch of doodle-filled papers scattered around every inch of her—your—room, 90% of them being of you. you found them one day while looking for something but you didn't directly mentioned them, not wanting the girl to get mad at the sudden lack of privacy, and instead brought up the topic of drawing. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who got mad the millisecond something didn't go how she planned—whether it was cooking, a drawing, or anything else—, yet the easiest way to calm her down was pressing a kiss to her forehead. she always got so quiet when you mentioned the vein in her forehead that made itself quite noticeable when she was frustrated. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ speaking of kisses... ava who wanted to kiss you so badly one day. she had no idea how to actually do it—did she just... pressed her lips against yours? that was all? it confused her and she didn't want to ask about it; but, thankfully, you understood her worries. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

the two of you were lying on your bed, her head comfortably resting on your chest, which was ava's favorite thing to do. with you, the silence actually felt quiet—her mind was at peace, the voices that once punished her now gone. suddenly, she shifted. she placed her chin on your chest and looked up at you, her brows furrowing in that characteristic way that was so uniquely hers.

"we're dating, right?" she asked you before placing her hand on your stomach, fingers delicately lifting your shirt up so she could brush against your bare skin. "yes." confused, you replied. your hand found its way to her hair, massaging her scalp—which had her leaning into your touch like a cat—.

"and kissing is something couples do... right?" another question left her lips, her eyes no longer staring at you—instead they were now settled on your chin, the poor girl fighting the urges to look at your lips. she didn't need to say another word, you could see right through her and immediately understood where she was going. "right." you answered, a small smile forming on your lips at the state your girl was in.

" i want to kiss you... i just don't know how to..."

── .✦ ava who literally became obsessed with your kisses. the first time, she was nervous as hell—but you were patient, guided her. it was a small peck, not wanting to overwhelm her, yet it made her feel all sort of things. ever since that moment, she didn't want her lips to be away from yours. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who eventually loved your touch. it's not like she didn't love it before—it was a feeling she just wasn't used to experiencing, but the way you were so careful and always made sure she was comfortable helped her get used to it. you moved back into your room and slept in the same bed as she did, and when she had troubles falling asleep, brushing your fingers against her skin always helped. she got so incredibly relaxed when you brushed her eyebrows—when you traced the small mole above her right eyebrow— or when you ran your palms up and down her back. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

── .✦ ava who was oh so happy to have met you. you were there for her at all times, even when she pushed you away, even when she couldn't stop saying how she didn't deserve you. for the first time, she felt alive. she felt safe, loved, cherished. and it was all thanks to you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖